


These Little Things That Bind Us

by dreamsofsaints



Series: Match Bursting into Flame, Garden Bursting into Life [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Undercover Cop/Gangster AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofsaints/pseuds/dreamsofsaints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>All of a sudden, there’s a voice at his ear. “How’re you doin’, mate?”</i><br/><i>Liam jumps about a foot, but somehow manages to stay balanced on his barstool without spilling a drop of his drink. He needs to calm down if he wants to avoid attracting any attention from Malik and his cronies. Steeling himself, he squares his shoulders and turns to face the voice. And then he actually does spill his drink. All over the shirt of one Niall Horan</i>.</p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>Liam lives a comfortable life; he works as a policeman and he has quite a nice flat, thank you very much.   He’s romancing one of his superiors but, other than that, things are fairly calm.  That is, things are fairly calm until he's assigned to go under cover and gather information about a rising star of London’s criminal under world, Zayn Malik.  But perhaps even more threatening to Liam's way of life than Malik himself is a certain blonde, cheery, Irish accomplice of his.  Or, how Liam and Niall met on opposite sides of the fence and fell in love anyway.</i></i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is a work of fiction and the following events are not meant to represent real life. Also, I don't know a ton about London's police force/gangs/geography.

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep. Bee-

Liam slams his hand down onto his alarm clock and rolls over face-first into his pillows. He groans into the white linen. “God fucking dammit. Too fucking early.” Mondays are the worst. Why does he even bother getting out of bed at six every morning?

“Liam! Are you awake up yet?” A high voice trills from the other side of the apartment. Danielle. Oh yeah. That’s why he gets up in the morning.

“Yeah,” he croaks, raising his head up from the pillows. No response from the kitchen. Rolling over onto his back, he roughly clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, babe. One minute."

“Hurry up, love! Today’s a big day for you!”

“Yeah.” Liam rubs his buzzed hair distractedly and then freezes. “Wait, what? Why is a today a big day?” Again, there was no response from the kitchen. “Danielle?” he calls out. Sighing, Liam heaves himself up and leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his underwear. Sliding on his boxers, he stands up from the bed and pads into the kitchen. He smiles absently at the scene awaiting him; his girlfriend, Danielle, stands with her back to him at the stove, frying sausages and humming under her breath. Thank God for Dani.

“What’s all this for? And why is today a big day for me?” Sliding up behind her, he slowly wraps his arms around his waist. “Did you say that just to get me out of bed? Or…” Liam trails off and leans in close, whispering into her ear. “Was that some sort of euphemism for morning sex? Because now that you’ve officially moved in, we can have all of the morning sex we want.” Laughing, Dani swats at him distractedly and tucks a tuft of curly hair behind her ear.

“Shut up. And no, today is actually a big day for you at the department.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Liam asks, nuzzling her absently behind her ear.

Danielle twists around in his hold and leans back to look him in the eyes. “Liam, you know that I can’t tell you. Now back away from the stove before you hurt yourself.”

“What’s the point of shagging one of my higher ups if I’m not even privy to special information?” Grinning, Liam pulls Danielle even closer, fingers slipping down from her stomach to grip her hips instead. She rolls her eyes at him, laughing in spite of herself.

“Oooh, ‘privy.’ Have you been brushing up on your vocabulary, Officer Payne?” Danielle wriggles out of his embrace and unceremoniously shoves him back towards the bedroom. “And go take a shower! You smell horrible. The sausages can wait.”

Liam grins and raised wriggles his eyebrows at her, not so easily deterred. “I’ll only shower if you agree to join me….it’s your shower now too, after all. We should properly christen it. The sausages can definitely wait.”

“Liam, if we’re late…”

“Yessir Sarge, I know. I promise it’ll be quick.” Danielle rolls her eyes and finally allows him to drag her from the stove. Giggling, the two stumble back towards the bedroom.

 

“Alright men...and women…quiet down,” Commander Cowell barks at the rowdy room full of cops. Liam rolls his eyes and irritably taps his notebook with a pen. The man is such an insufferable hard ass. Noticing Liam’s exasperated expression, Danielle smiles gently at him from her position next to Cowell. 

“You may be wondering why I’ve brought you here this morning. I’ll cut straight to the chase.” Could the man sound any more like a character out of a bad detective movie? Liam struggles not to roll his eyes again. It’s still too early for this. 

“Due to the recent austerity cuts, we’ve been forced to let some of you go. The Metropolitan Police Service would like to thank you all for your loyal and steadfast service….alright, aright. I am kidding.” Groans resound through the room. Such a hard ass.

“Not funny!” calls the officer sitting next Liam. That’s not going to go over well.

Commander Cowell frowns back at the man. “Well, no, you’re just funny looking, aren’t you, Officer Grimshaw?” Grimshaw flushes and Liam bites back a laugh as he briefly makes eye contact with Danielle for the second time in the span of as many minutes. Shifting in his seat, Liam looks pointedly away. They’re going to have to tone it down if they don’t want others to know about them. He’s pretty sure that Grimshaw already suspects, the nosy bugger.

“Anyway, down to business. As our liaison to the Serious Organized Crime Agency, Sergeant Peazer has been authorized to brief the department on an investigation that SOCA would like to carry out with our help.” The Commander holds up his hands as the many of the officers in the room once again raise their voices in protest. “I know, I know. SOCA generally tends to trample all over our investigations and royally cock everything up. But that’s why they’ve come to us. You know. So that they don’t…cock everything up. This time. Ahem. Sergeant Peazer, if you would.” The Commander sits back down, awkwardly tugging at his suit.

Danielle smoothly unfolds herself from her chair and stands up liquidly, facing the group. She’s as calm and collected and the Commander is flustered. “Thank you, Commander. Officer Cameron, could you please open my power point?”

“Already loaded up, Sergeant. Let me just turn on the projector....here we are.”

“Thank you. Now, as the Commander said, our friends over at SOCA have reached out to us and requested our help with one of their latest investigations.” 

The projector flickers on, revealing the first slide of her power point. Almost immediately, an audible murmur rises up from her audience.

“Who is that?” Liam whispers to Grimshaw. A young man in a leather jacket with an angular, aristocratic face and large, almond brown eyes sneers out at them from under an impressive head of thick, black hair. Even in the unflattering mug shot, it’s clear that he’s uncommonly good looking. Liam’s not usually attracted to men, but he thinks that he might be able to make an exception for this kid.

Grimshaw cocks an eyebrow at him. “Jesus, have you been living under a rock, Payne? How do you not know…”

“Settle down, please. Many of you may know who this man is.” Danielle indicates the image projected onto the screen and then clicks to the next slide. This picture has a lower resolution, and it seems to have been taken through a long range lens. The man was now standing on a curb outside of a club, wearing the same leather jacket, eyes narrowed as he lit a cigarette.

“For those of you who don’t, this is Zayn Malik. He may look like a harmless uni student, but he’s actually quite the ruthless little gangster. Up until a couple of months ago, he was running with a gang largely made up of low level thugs, but he seems to have gotten into some sort of disagreement with its leadership. He recently purchased a bar without any kind of financial backing, which raised all sorts of red flags for our colleagues over at SOCA. We believe that he’s intending to use the bar to launder money to bankroll his various….unsavory activities. Any questions so far?” A woman seated at the far end of the conference table raises her hand. “Yes, Officer MacMurrough?”

“Even if this Malik character is trying to establish his own little money-laundering enterprise, why does that bother SOCA so much? If he got kicked out of that gang you mentioned, then he’s starting out on his own. He can’t get into that much trouble by himself.”

“That’s the thing. Mr. Malik may be many things, but alone is not one of them.” Danielle clicks to a new slide. This image appears to have been taken from the same vantage point as the prior one; in this shot, Malik is joined by three other men. Liam studies the picture, head cocked slightly to the side. Even if Malik is as hardened of a gangster as Danielle seems to believe he is, the group of young men doesn’t look particularly threatening. In the picture, a tall curly-haired boy is leaning down as a shorter boy lights his cigarette. Malik has his arm casually slung around the shoulders of the third man, whose blonde head is tipped back in laughter.

“I understand that some of you may think that these men do not look like they pose a significant threat to the people of London,” Danielle flatly states, eyes flickering to Liam as if she is able to hear his doubts. “But I can assure you that Malik and his friends have the potential to become important players on the organized crime scene in London. The boys over at SOCA are particularly concerned by this group’s close ties to a couple of big time dealers. We don’t need these kids putting any more heroin out onto the streets of London.”

Danielle pauses and looks around the room. With the mention of heroin, the mood has become considerably more serious, and many of the officers are now nodding along in agreement. “Briefly, here’s what we know about his associates.” 

She clicks to a mug shot of the shorter boy. He grins cheekily out of the picture, a fringe of fine brown hair swooping down across his forehead. “This is Louis Tomlinson, Malik’s right hand man. The two grew up together in Hackney. So far, he’s lived a relatively unimportant life full of petty crime. However, he is suspected of committing several violent assaults against members of the Met.” Several growls rise up from the audience, and Liam narrows his eyes. He remembers this little shit. He had nearly beaten Liam’s last partner, Tom, to death but the officers assigned to the case hadn’t been able to gather any solid evidence against him. Bastard.

“He’s the most volatile of all of Malik’s contacts, and definitely one to watch.” The next mug shot is of the tall, curly haired boy with the wide green eyes. Liam stifles a chuckle in his fist. A gangster with dimples? Danielle has got to be kidding.

“This is Harry Styles. Like Tomlinson, he has a history of violence. He is also a serious player on the drug scene, and has been arrested several times for the possession of hard drugs with the intent to distribute.”

Danielle clicks to her last slide. “Finally, this is Niall Horan.” It’s the blonde man who had been laughing in the group shot. Still shielding his mouth behind his fist, Liam smiles wryly. The kid was obviously pretty tanked in his mug shot, his jaw gaping open haphazardly as he squints at the camera. Liam squints back….does he look familiar? He shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t….he just looks absolutely pissed. When Liam had worked at the drunk tank over near Lower Clapton he had seen hundreds of guys in a similar state.

“We only have a mug shot of him because he was arrested a while back for getting into a bar fight. Other than that, he’s a Boy Scout. We don’t quite know what his connection to this group is, but according to intelligence from SOCA he’s often seen with them so we should assume that he has some knowledge of their criminal activities.”

Danielle motions to Cameron to turn off the projector. “So, as to why we’re gathered here today. As you can tell from my presentation, the boys over at SOCA haven’t been able to gather much information about Malik and his friends. They’ve reached out to us and asked us if we would be willing to send one of our officers in as an undercover agent to infiltrate their little budding gang.”

An excited murmur sweeps through the room. An undercover posting would bring immediate prestige to any officer, and such postings were far and few in between.

“This is an extremely dangerous and challenging assignment, but I know that our unit is up to the task. After careful consideration, Commader Cowell and I have decided to select Officer Payne as….”

The rest of Danielle’s words are lost to Liam as blood roars through his ears. An undercover assignment?


	2. Chapter Two

Liam stumbles blindly out of the station, fingers trembling. The rest of the meeting had passed by in a blur of sights and sounds as his heartbeat had quickened and his senses had sharpened. He had quit smoking years ago, but goddamn he could use a cigarette right about now. Bloody hell. 

“Liam! Wait!” Danielle barrels out of the door behind him, a mass of panicked, frantic limbs and flying hair. “Liam! Please, stop!”

“What?” He whirls abruptly on his heels, glaring back at her. How had she not warned him about this? Sure, she had hinted at it this morning in the kitchen but he had thought that she was just being playful. He hadn’t thought that he was going to be assigned to an undercover fucking mission. Weren’t they supposed to tell each other everything?

“Liam, I’m sorry,” Danielle pants, finally catching up to him. She reaches out towards him, trying to placate him, but knows better than to touch him just yet. “I really am. But you know that I couldn’t tell you. I’d get into trouble if the Commander knew that we were sleeping together, let alone living together, and I’d get into even more trouble if I leaked sensitive information to you. It would place both of our careers at risk. You know this. Please, Liam. We’ve talked about this, babe.”

“Don’t call me ‘babe,’ _Sergeant _,” Liam snarls back. He rarely loses his temper, but now he can hardly see straight.__

“That’s not fair, Liam.” Danielle looks up at him, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She pulls her hand back and looks uncertain of herself for the first time. “Please,” she repeats, quieter this time. “I’m really sorry.”

Liam sighs and looks around. No one else had followed them outside. Good. He reaches back and pulls Dani into an alley, and then pulls her gently into his arms. He never can stay mad at anyone for very long, and her soft brown eyes always manage to make him crumble. “It’s okay,” he whispers into the top of her hair. He tightens his arms about her and feels her wrap her arms tentatively around his waist in response. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “I was just caught off-guard and I overreacted.” He heaves out another sigh and feels her melt against his body.

“ _I _should be apologizing to _you _. I know that our relationship puts you in tough position. I’m such an ass. I’m sorry.”____

“It’s fine,” Danielle murmurs back. “Are we alright?” She leans back to look him in the eye. He tries to hold her gaze, fails, and glances nervously away. His fingers are still shaking.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. This mission will be fine. It will all be fine-”

“Liam,” she cuts across his nervous stream of chatter. “Calm down.” She steps out from the circle of his arms and grips both of his hands firmly in her own. “You can do this. Commander Cowell and I chose you for this mission for a reason. The whole department believes that you can do it.”

Liam pulls a hand away from her and runs it agitatedly through his cropped hair. It seems silly to him that hours earlier he had similarly been rubbing his head over the everyday agony of getting out of bed. “Way to put the pressure on, Dani,” he jokes, his humor belying his anxiety. Only a slight tremor in his voice reveals his real feelings.

She smiles fondly up at him and answers back seriously, “I believe in you Liam. I love you. I know that you can do this.” Smirking, she lightly slaps his chest with her free hand. “Besides, you’re the only officer in the whole entire Met who can blend in with such a hip crowd. You’ll fit right in with Malik and his boys. You have the youth, the tattoos, the muscles…” She squeezes his well-defined bicep and he drops her other hand, bashfully stepping away from her.

“Wow, thanks Sarge.” This time, there’s no stinging sense of insult accompanying the title, and Danielle knows that they’re going to be fine after all.

“You’re welcome. Now, are you ready to go back inside? Commander Cowell and I need to brief you on your upcoming mission, Officer Payne.”

“Yes. But you’re taking me out for a beer tonight. And you’re paying, Sarge.” Dani just smiles up at him in response. Liam briefly hugs her again and then follows her out of the alley and back into the station. Dani’s right. She always is, which is why he loves her so much. He can definitely do this. He’s going to be an undercover cop, just like Leonardo fucking DiCaprio in that movie he watched one time. Except that he won’t get shot. Hopefully.

 

“Jesus H. Christ.” Across town, a short blonde boy staggers across an empty bar and drops an armful of wooden crates onto a dirty floor of weathered planks. “I don’t know how Zayn thinks we’re going to have this shithole up and running in a week,” he mutters to himself. The old owners had somehow managed to tear down the walls before they had vacated the property, exposing the large industrial pipes that gurgled behind the frame of the building. Zayn had said that they added a rustic feel to the ancient building, but it was just like Zayn to say something stupid like that.

“Aw, Niall. You know I love how Irish you sound when you get angry. It just brings out your lovely, lilting brogue.” Niall jumps and curses at the sound of another voice. He turns in a full circle, but doesn’t see anyone else. Has it gotten to the point where he can actually hear Zayn in his head now? Well, he had known that he was going to lose his mind sooner or later if he remained in the man’s infuriating company.

“Shut it about my ‘brogue’, Malik. Where the hell are you?”

Zayn Malik pokes his head through a hole in the ceiling and grins down at his friend. “Suppose that we’re going to have to patch this up before we open, hmm?” He asks, plowing on before allowing the visibly irritated blonde to answer. “Though it would make for a very convenient peephole. I could have an office up here and look down through my floor whenever I want to know what’s happenin’ downstairs.”

“No, we agreed that I would live above the bar. I’m tired of sleeping on your lumpy old couch,” Niall shoots back immediately. He’s hot, dusty, and tired, with no patience left for his dark haired friend. He had dragged these damn crates around the whole damn city all day. Zayn just had to have those particular light fixtures for his bar, and of course Zayn couldn’t be bothered to go pick them up himself.

“You could sleep in my lumpy old bed with lumpy old me, instead,” Zayn jabs back half-heartedly. As expected, Niall ignores him. Zayn and his bed are still touchy subjects with the younger man. With both of them, really. Maybe Zayn shouldn’t have brought that up. They had finally decided that, among other things, Niall should stop sleeping in Zayn’s bed. Zayn grimaces and pulls his head back through the hole. Idiot. Why does he always stick his foot in his mouth? Serves him right for trying to be clever, he thinks bitterly to himself.

Minutes later, Niall hears him clomping down the back staircase. He enters the large, barren room through a door behind the bar and sidles up to the blonde. “You ready to call it a day, mate?” He says it as casually as if he hadn’t just mentioned the very large elephant in the room. “You look like you could use a shower and some shut eye.”

“Yes to both,” Niall declares, finally sparing Zayn a genuine smile. “We can just install these bloody things tomorrow. Specialty light fixtures. I swear.” Zayn grins back at him sheepishly.

“Sorry, mate. I have a vision.”

“A vision for a bar that’s gonna be a front for your drug business? Right,” Niall snorts, looking fondly at Zayn. “Have you seen Harry today?” he continues, changing the topic of conversation so quickly that Zayn just blinks at him for a couple of seconds.

“No, I’ve been playing around with numbers all day. Bloody exhausting, that is. I haven't got a head for figures like you do ,” Zayn finally replies.

“I’m just a bit worried about him.” Niall kicks gently at the corner of one of the crate, avoiding eye contact. “I know that he and Louis have hit a rough spot-”

“When have they not hit a rough spot, honestly?” asks Zayn. He leans over and ruffles Niall’s hair, hoping that the blonde doesn’t notice the cracks in his smile. Niall doesn’t need to know that Harry’s been on a bender for the past three days, although he probably suspects as much. Niall isn’t an idiot, and he’d grown up quite a bit in the past year.

Zayn hasn’t been able to reach Harry since Tuesday. Whenever that happens, Harry is usually holed up having sex with Louis like they’re a couple of newlyweds or he’s off trying to score smack on the streets. Since Louis hasn’t heard from Harry either, Zayn can safely assume that it’s the latter. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Niall,” he continues, forcing his smile to remain on his face. The cracks just widen instead. “He’ll turn up sooner or later. He hasn’t failed to do that yet.”

“But what if this is the time that he doesn’t turn up?” Niall asks anxiously. Niall notices the cracks in his smile. Of course he does. He’s Niall, and he is Zayn. Niall will always notice these things.

Zayn drops the pretense and frowns at him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now we should be crossing the bridge of you having a proper shower. You smell like a bloody farm animal.”

“Because you had me running around London all day to fulfill your bloody vision,” scoffs Niall. “And that didn’t even make sense.” Nevertheless, he grins up at Zayn, his concern for Harry momentarily eased. “I’ll shower at yours and then we can order some takeout. And then call Louis? Maybe he has heard from Harry from by now.”

“Whatever you want, kid.”

 

“Of course I haven’t heard from Harry,” Louis squawks into the phone. Niall winces and holds his phone away from his ear slightly. “I kicked him out of the flat when I found out that he was shagging that low level scum bag dealer over near Park. The idiot cuts his shit with shit, did you know that? If Harry’s going to cheat on me, it should at least be for some good shit.”

“That made no sense, Lou,” Niall says. Shaking his wet hair and absentmindedly brushing at the towel slung low around his hips, he looks over to where Zayn is flipping through takeout menus on that bloody lumpy couch. He moves closer to the window and lowers his voice, not wanting Zayn to hear him. He knows that Zayn will poke fun at him for worrying so much about Harry, as if Niall’s worrying hadn’t saved all of their asses at some point or another in the past year. Ungrateful jerk.

“What I’m saying is,” Louis huffs, “I kicked Harry out of the flat because he cheated on me again. I mean, I was cheating on him too, but he fucked _Mickey _.”__

Niall wrinkles his nose. Even amongst the drug dealers and thieves that they kept company with, Mickey O'Toole really was scum. And Louis was right, his product wasn’t that good. Certainly not good enough to warrant Harry abandoning Louis. Or Louis abandoning Harry. Or whatever the fuck had happened this time. The two of them really were impossible to deal with.

“Regardless of who he may have fucked, Louis, he needs your help. You know that he does.”

“It gets old, Niall. Looking after him get so bloody old.” Louis’s sighs echo across the airwaves. “Last year was so hard on us,” he says, his voice softer, weary. “It almost fucking killed him. It almost fucking killed me.”

“But it brought you closer together, didn’t it?” Niall challenges him.

“Yeah. I guess it did. I just don’t want to take care of an addict going through withdrawal again. That shit is exhausting, mentally and physically.”

Emotionally, Niall silently corrects. He looks back over at Zayn, who had put down the takeout menus at some point and was now staring at him intently. “Right, well, I gotta go, Louis. I’ll talk to you later. Put down the phone and go find your boy.”

“I will.” Louis heaves another sigh. “I’ll text you when I’ve got him back at the flat.”

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need us,” Niall replies absently. Zayn really shouldn’t be looking at him like that. They had agreed that Niall was sleeping on the couch now, after all.

“Us? Did you just refer to yourself and Zayn as _us _? Niall-”__

“Goodbye, Louis,” Niall interjects quickly. “Good luck.”

“He hasn’t heard back from Harry yet, has he?” Zayn asks. Niall walks back over to him and plops down beside him on the couch, carefully adjusting his towel. He places his cellphone on the little table next to the couch before replying.

“No, but he’s going to go check all of Harry’s usual haunts. He’ll text us when they’re both safely home.”

“Good.” Zayn looks up at the ceiling and stretches his arms above his head. Niall doesn’t look at the dusky strip of skin exposed at the top of the other man’s jeans by his movements. He really doesn’t. He’s sleeping on the couch now. “Pizza or Chinese?” Zayn asks. Niall starts and is suddenly aware of how little skin his towel actually covers.

“Er, Chinese. Definitely Chinese. Order whatever. I’m going to go get changed. And then we can eat Chinese food. Yep.” Niall lurches up off the couch and into the bathroom. Zayn watches him go, the left corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He pulls out his phone and, before calling for takeout, texts Louis. _Let us know if you want help finding Harry. ___

Louis’s reply comes back almost immediately. _Us? ___

Zayn shakes his head. Louis fucking Tomlinson. He should probably order that food now. What was it that Niall had said that he wanted? Zayn had been too distracted by that skimpy towel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to play around with different writing styles, so this chapter is a bit different from the first one.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Description of an addict undergoing withdrawal.

The next day, Liam finds himself in a small conference room at the station with Danielle, Commander Cowell, and a SOCA agent. “It’s great to meet you, Officer Payne. I’m Sergeant Kellen. But you can just call me Randy.” Of course Liam won’t call him that.

“I’m sure you’ve already been told that I’ve been assigned to help you adjust to life as an undercover agent. These next couple of weeks of transition will likely be very stressful, and I’m here to help in any way that I can.”

Liam nods and smiles at the man. He seems pleasant enough. The fact that he’s going to be living a double life in a couple of days still hasn’t quite sunk into Liam’s head yet. Last night, Dani had bought him drink after drink as he slowly became increasingly maudlin. She finally had to drag him out of the bar and back to their flat at around 1 a.m. in the morning as he loudly yelled things about South Boston and rats and Frank Costello. He needed to stop watching so many American gangster movies.

“We’ve prepared a flat for you over in Hackney, close to Malik's bar. You’ll be moving in two weeks from now. In the meantime, you and I are going to work on constructing a personal history for your new identity. In order to successfully operate as an undercover agent, you’re going to have to live as this different person for days at a time. Therefore, you need to take ownership of every aspect of this new identity,” Sergeant Kellen lectures.

Liam nods and smiles impassively again. It all sounds a bit like bullshit to him. “Owning” his new identity? Is this guy a psychologist or a SOCA agent?

“So far, the only thing set in stone is that you’re a university drop out by the name of Liam Parsons. We’ve arranged for you to work at a coffee shop close to your new flat, since Officer Peazer said that you used to work in one and you know your way around an espresso machine.” The man pauses awkwardly and laughs. Was that supposed to be a joke?

“Like you, Liam Parsons is from Wolverhampton. He’s just moved to London, which is why he has no friends.” Sergeant Kellen slides an unkmarked manila folder across the table to Liam. “This dossier contains what I’ve just told you, as well as some blank space for you to record any additional details about your undercover persona. You’ll want to keep everything about Liam Parsons as close to the reality of your own life as possible; we don’t want you freezing up and forgetting your cover story while talking to Malik and his associates. An added benefit is that you won’t have to memorize a ton of new information, which frees up time for you and Sergeant Peazer to observe Malik during these next two weeks.”

“Observe, sir?” questions Liam. With Dani? he silently adds.

“Yes, Officer Payne. We don’t know much about Malik’s daily life. It’s important that you be one of the observing officers so that you can learn about his behavior firsthand before interacting with the man. After we gather some more information about his schedule and his associates, we will ascertain how to best place you in his life.” Jesus, the man really does talk like a psychologist. A professor of psychology, even.

Commander Cowell clears his throat and leans across the table to address Liam. “We’ve assigned Sergeant Peazer to temporarily be your partner since she is already up to date on this case and has received clearance to participate in this investigation from SOCA. And because you’re currently lacking a partner, thanks to Louis Tomlinson.” Tom had healed from the injuries inflicted on him by the thug, but he had not yet been cleared to return to active duty. Liam understood that there was some problem with his psych evaluation. Getting beaten up in a dark alley by an unprovoked maniac could certainly disturb one’s mental state. Poor Tom.

“I understand, sir,” Liam replies, resisting the impulse to look over at Danielle. Observing Malik with her at his side would allow the two of them to spend more time together before he would have to move out of their flat and assume the identity of Liam Parsons. However, if being romantically involved with one’s superior is frowned upon, being involved with one’s partner is even more so. This point was drilled into all of the cadets’ head during training, and Liam had heard countless stories about officers who had placed themselves or their partners in danger because of such illicit relationships. He’s not so sure that he would be able to keep a clear head if he were ever in a dangerous situation with Dani. Liam shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts. They were going to have to make it work.

“Once you go undercover, Sergeants Peazer and Kellen will be the only contact that you have with the force,” Commander Cowell continues.

Sergeant Kellen nods. “You’ll provide myself and Sergeant Peazer with weekly reports via a burn phone.”

“A burn phone, sir?” Liam repeats.

“Yes,” answers Sergeant Kellen. “If Malik become suspicious of you, he will likely hack into your email, landline, and cellphone.”

“He’s a hacker in addition to being a gang leader?” Liam incredulously asks, impressed in spite of himself.

“Not really. But I doubt that he lacks the means to hack into your laptop or tap your phone lines. Thus, a burn phone is safer and more secure. Other than these weekly reports, you are discouraged from contacting us unless you have vital information of a time-sensitive nature, or if you’re in danger. ” He pauses and looks Liam squarely in the eyes. “This may be difficult for you. Many undercover agents report feelings of loneliness and the like. You may be undercover for a few weeks or a few months.”

Liam steels himself and asks the question that he’s been too afraid to ask so far. “What if I’m undercover for longer than a few months, sir?”

Commander Cowell and Sergeant Kellen exchange a look. Kellen clasps his hands together and coughs nervously. “Some of our agents have remained in deep cover for years at a time. However, you have not formally been screened and trained as an undercover agent. That said, the amount of time that you will spend undercover depends on how quickly you ingratiate yourself with Malik and his cronies. At the most, you will be spending nine months to a year undercover.” A _year _? Shit, thinks Liam. A year of living by himself in a strange flat, with no human contact other than a band of violent criminals. Great.__

Kellen and Commander Cowell once again exchange looks, and Kellen reluctantly continues, “If it turns out that you have to spend longer than a year undercover, we will reevaluate the case. However, we don’t anticipate-”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that I could be undercover for _more _than a year? Err…sir?” Liam interrupts. He can feel bile rising up in the back of his throat. Don’t. Panic.__

“It’s…..unlikely. Unlikely, but possible.” This time, Danielle replies.

“Officer Payne, we will try to adequately prepare you during these next two weeks, and, once you go undercover, we will give you all of the support that we can,” Commander Cowell says encouragingly. “You’re not the first officer that we’ve sent undercover, you know. Sergeant Kellen and I know that you’re going to do an excellent job.”

 

A couple of hours later, Danielle and Liam are in an unmarked squad car watching Zayn Malik as he sits at an outdoor café across the street from them. 

“Suspected gangster Zayn Malik really seems to enjoy espresso drinks. Should we include that in our report?”

“Liam, I can tell when you try to hide your feelings behind your sense of humor. You can't fool me. You’re still nervous, aren’t you?” replies Danielle.

“Of course I am! Bloody hell, Danielle. A year undercover? _More _than a year?”__

“I don’t know what to tell you that I haven’t already told you.” Danielle reaches over and holds his hand. “This is going to be challenging for you…hell, it would be challenging for anyone, but you’re going to be fine. Just like we discussed yesterday. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replies. He leans over to kiss her and then thinks better of it. They may be living together, but he was going to have to try to think of Danielle as his partner and only his partner during the coming months. “I bet that you’re excited I’m going undercover. You’re going to have our flat all to yourself. You better not paint it pink or buy houseplants or anything like that.”

Danielle narrows her eyes and looks at him accusingly. “Hey!” Liam holds up his free hand. “I’ll admit it, you were right. I’m hiding my feelings behind lame jokes. Was that at least a litte funny?”

“No,” snorts Danielle. “I would never do that. Obviously, I’m going to paint the flat purple and buy a turtle.”

 

Zayn leans back in his chair at his favorite café, sipping a latte as he mulls over which supplier he wants to purchase his bar’s first shipment of heroin from. The bar’s slated to open in a week, and he wants to begin selling product as soon as possible. Zayn runs through the list of possibilities in his head. Thomason is often unpredictable, but his supply is of a higher quality. Still, the last time Zayn had seen the man, he had pulled a knife on him. Zayn frowns absently. Maybe Lloyd was a better bet. When Zayn had worked for Paul, an established crime boss, Lloyd had always delivered product to them promptly and without complications. Paul had once said that Lloyd was one of the most professional drug traffickers that he had ever worked with. Professional is good, thinks Zayn. He has ambitious plans for his first purchase as an independent distributor, and a professional supplier would make it easier for him to distribute heroin quickly and efficiently.

And then, of course, there’s the question of who he wants to distribute the heroin to now that he’s planning on expanding his business. He needs some middlemen other than Harry and Louis. Zayn frowns again and taps the table, taking another sip. Ideally, he needs reliable dealers who already have established customer bases, but he doesn’t want to step on the toes of any other distributors. A turf war is the last thing that he needs. Best to delegate the task of finding reliable dealers to Louis, perhaps. He has enough to deal with already. Which supplier _is _he going to buy from? Thomason or Lloyd?__

His cell phone rings and interrupts his reverie. “Hey, Louis.”

“Zayn! I’m glad I caught ya. I found Harry late last night….or, errr….early this morning? He’s back at our flat now. I don’t want to leave him alone…he’s in a bad state. Withdrawal and all that shit. But I’m bloody starving. Could you pick up some food for me? I’m still stocked up on medicine and shit from the last time he went on a bender, but we could really use some carbs.”

“Sure thing, Lou. I’ll even do you one better…I’ll stock up on some groceries and come cook you a meal. I’ll bring Niall with me, too. He’s so worried about Harry that he’s been practically vibrating out of his skin.”

“Yeah, I got that when he called me yesterday. But sounds great, mate. I owe you one.”

“No problem,” answers Zayn. “I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up the phone and finishes his latte. He’ll have to buy pasta, tomato sauce, lettuce, some bread...

As Zayn walks down the street, absorbed in making a list of things to buy and still thinking about suppliers and middlemen, he fails to notice the dark sedan that peels away from the curb and follows him.

 

“Hey, Harry,” Niall whispers as he leans down to kiss the brunette’s sweaty mass of curls.

“Louis?” Harry grunts, shifting in his damp sheets. He’d been having the most terrifying dream. In it, he had been lying down on some filthy couch in an unfamiliar flat. His vision was blurry, but he could just make out large, messy block letters of black scrawled across the wall, spelling out the words “Fuck! the system.” He’d been staring at the graffiti, trying to understand the meaning of the odd punctuation (was it there to emphasize the word “fuck?” or was the person who’d written it simply exclaiming that a system existed?) when he’d heard gunshots. At first he’d started, but then relaxed again as he remembered that he’d be alright if he died in a dream. Silly Harry. All of a sudden, light blue-gray eyes partially obscured by a fringe of fine, brown hair had appeared directly in his field of vision. But now, as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, he’s looking up at a shock of bright blonde hair instead.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s Niall. I didn’t mean to wake you up, Haz. Go back to sleep.”

“Niall?” Harry murmurs, still not fully awake. “Where am I?”

“You’re in your bed. You were on a bender. Louis found you and brought you home.” Not a dream then. Interesting.

“Ugh, Niall, I’m gonna-”

“Here, here’s the bucket-”

Harry leans over the side of his head and vomits into the proffered trashcan. Nothing comes out but stomach bile and clear fluid. He must have been vomiting earlier, either in his sleep or when he was too drugged to realize. Or maybe he hadn’t eaten recently. Thinking back, Harry can’t remember the last time that he’d eaten. Certainly not within the past couple of days.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps out, continuing to dry heave.

Niall pats his back. “It’s alright. Let it out. You’re already starting to go through withdrawal, I think. The come down’s gonna be intense this time-you did a shit ton of drugs. Speed, heroin, who knows what else. You’ve been sweating buckets. You’ll probably get the shakes soon,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Fever?” gasps Harry as he continues to heave.

“Lou said that it already broke, which is a good sign. He also said that it’s been hard keeping you hydrated since you aren’t really keeping water down right now,” Niall replies, still stroking his back soothingly.

“Clearly,” Harry says, still gagging. “But I’m not going to the hospital for an I.V.”

“Try to drink some more water then.” Niall picks up a cup from the bedside table and offers it to Harry. Harry sits up a bit straighter and takes it, grimacing slightly as he sips it.

“There you go,” Niall murmurs encouragingly.

Harry’s stomach gurgles in protest to the water, and he puts the cup back down after a few sips. “Methadone?” he asks, looking carefully away from Niall.

“Lou already dosed you up.”

“Good,” Harry sighs, gingerly laying back down. “That will help. Would you mind getting me some aspirin?” He pauses, and then asks quietly, “Actually, could you send Louis in with it?”

“Louis’s sleeping on the couch right now. Zayn and I came over to cook him dinner, but he conked out before he could even eat it. He spent all of yesterday afternoon and night looking for you, and he was up all day today making sure that you didn’t choke on your own vomit.”

“Oh.”

Niall smiles gently at him and runs his fingers through the other boy’s curls. “Try and get some more sleep now, yeah? Your body needs the rest. Louis will still be here when you wake up, and so will I.”

“Not that I deserve it,” Harry grumbles into his pillow, already falling back asleep.

“Oh, Harry,” Niall sighs, touching his friend’s cheek.

When Zayn looks in a few hours later, Niall’s sitting serenely in a chair at the head of the bed, watching Harry as he sleeps. “Niall,” he whispers. Niall looks up, his eyes hooded and tired. “I’ll watch over Harry. Lou’s still sleeping on the couch, but I found some extra blankets for you if you want to sleep in that armchair next to it.”

Niall stands up and stretches, his back creaking and protesting as he reaches towards the ceiling. “Thanks, Z. Beats the couch back at your place,” he winks.

“Ha, ha,” Zayn replies, his face deadpan. “Go on, leave me with Harold. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Alright. Good night, Zayn,” Niall yawns and shuffles past him, sparing one last look at Harry’s sleeping form before he leaves the room.

“Night,” Zayn murmurs back to the empty doorway. He sits down in the chair at the head of the bed and props his head on his hands, settling himself in until morning. 

 

Across the street, Liam shakes Danielle’s shoulder lightly. “Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she mutters, rubbing at her eyes.

Liam smiles fondly at her. “It’s been a couple of hours since Zayn and Niall went into that building. I don’t think that they’re going to be coming out any time soon. Besides, we don’t have to surveil them 24/7. You ready to head home?”

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

The dark sedan once again peels away from the curb and then heads out into the velvety darkness of a late London night.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam goes to Zayn's bar where he meets Niall for the first time, and, in doing so, indavertently causes a problem between Niall and Zayn.
> 
> Finally some action! Also, I apologize for the complete lack of Harry and Louis in this chapter. They'll be back with a vengeance in the next chapter, I promise.
> 
> The song that Niall sings along in the bar to can be found here: https://soundcloud.com/wait-what/wait-what-ignition-in-1901-r

One month later.

“Tonight’s the night, Liam. You ready?”

“I don’t think that I’ll ever be ready. But yeah. Tonight’s the night.” Liam raises his voice as he walks into his apartment, finally able to speak freely. His arms are full of grocery bags and the cell phone that is serving as his burn phone is trapped between his shoulder and his ear.

“We’re counting on you, Liam.”

“I know, Dani.” Liam sighs. He puts his groceries down on his counter and moves to sit on a barstool. He leans forward, supports his weight on his forearms, and says quietly into the phone, “I miss you already.”

“Liam, it’s only been two weeks.”

“I know,” Liam grumbles back. Doesn’t she miss him too? He supposes that Dani has never been overly sentimental like he is. “It still sucks.” He had spent only two weeks preparing to go undercover, tailing Malik and his crew with Danielle and learning about undercover protocol and other vital-but-boring things from Sergeant Kellen. Because the Met and SOCA wanted to get information about Malik before he could get into any serious trouble with his little gang, Liam had assumed his new identity as Liam Parsons, uni drop out and barista from Wolverhampton, after these two weeks. This was unorthodox, but as both Dani and Officer Kellen constantly reminded him, necessary. As per Kellen’s suggestion, he had then spent an additional two weeks adjusting to his new life as Liam Parsons. This consisted of mundane things like buying second hand furniture for his flat (the flat needed to look lived-in, but not like the police department had paid for it), working at the little café around the corner, and buying groceries. Out of sheer boredom, he had taken to going to the store every day after work to buy groceries for the next day, rather than purchasing an entire week’s worth of groceries at a time.

But now his time spent idling was up; Commander Cowell and the boys over at SOCA had decided to send him in that very night. His first official assignment as an undercover agent wouldn’t be anything special; his mission is simply to go to Malik’s newly opened bar, The Station, and scope the place out. Commander Cowell and Danielle are convinced that Malik is using his bar to funnel heroin onto the streets of London, or, at the very least, to launder his drug money. Liam doesn’t really understand how going into the bar and buying a drink will help him uncover an elaborate drug trafficking ring, but he supposes that every undercover operation has to start somewhere.

“Dani, you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Look, Liam, I have to go-”

“Dani-”

“Liam, the time for doubt is over. It’s time to act. Sergeant Kellen already approved of you checking back in tonight, so call us when you get back. We’ll talk to you soon. Go kick some ass.”

Liam had never in his life heard “we” sound so cold and impersonal. “Yeah, okay,” he replies. “I love-” But Dani had already hung up. Liam tries not to read too much into this; he’ll talk to her later, after all.

“I can do this, I can do this,” he chants absent mindedly to himself as he places his cell phone down on the counter and walks into his new bathroom. At least the guess work had been taken out of what he was supposed to wear tonight; after observing the patrons of The Station, Dani had picked out a loose pair of jeans, a pair of basic Chucks, and a soft, black Henley. She had assured him that this would allow him to look like he belonged at the bar without drawing anyone’s attention. Liam had decided to take her word for it, as he’s still a bit bemused by the fashion of Malik’s crew. Styles, the tall one, strictly sticks to v necks and band t shirts paired with a leather jacket like Malik, whereas that murderous thug Tomlinson wears deceptively sweet patterned button ups with tiny collars. The blonde, Horan, seems to favor baggy tanks and jeans. Liam sometimes thinks that he looked like a little, European Eminem. Thank God they’re not expecting me to wear anything like that, thinks Liam. Given his luck, such baggy trousers would probably fall down and trip him in the off chance that he would have to make a hasty exit from the bar. Liam strips off his t shirt and jeans, and steps into the shower. It’s going to be a long night.

 

Several hours later, Liam enters The Station and promptly elbows his way to the bar. “Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath, already overwhelmed. He’s not supposed to drink excessively while on the job, but one drink isn’t excessive. Right?

Everyone at the Met had been calling The Station Malik’s “bar,” but “club” was probably a more accurate term. It’s so packed with people that, in the dim light, Liam can hardly make out where one person ends and the next begins. The dance floor, or rather, the entire interior of the building, is occupied by a seething mass of arms, legs, and heads, all pulsing to an ear-shatteringly loud beat. The beat’s provided by a dj, who stands in a booth raised up on a platform high above the crowd. Private booths shielded by black curtains line the wall opposite the dj booth. Other than the booths and a few scattered tables near the entrance (occupied by a strange mix of surly teenagers and frighteningly muscular middle aged men, Liam notes) the club has no other distinguishing features. Unless one counts the exposed pipes and ventilation ducts, Liam thinks. Is the lack of décor intentional? Ironic, maybe? Liam’s heard that “hipsters” are into irony. Whatever that means. But he’s here to investigate Malik, not to critique his taste in interior decorating.

The bar that Liam is so intent on reaching is massive and takes up the entire back wall of the club. Several bar tenders stand behind it, pulling draft beers and occasionally reaching back to grab big glass bottles of liquor that line the impossibly high shelves. He finally makes it to the front of the queue and signals the bartender. “Uhhh….whiskey sour.” The bartender gives him a funny look but complies with his request. Strange. Liam thinks that whiskey is a pretty standard drink order. That’s what he usually gets when he needs something a bit stronger than a beer. He frowns and files a mental note away to ask Dani what he ought to order next time. That is, if he manages to make it through this night. The hoity toity bartender apparently thinks that he’s already messed up.

“Thanks, keep the change, mate.”

“No worries. I put some cherries in there for ya too, sweetheart.”

“Ohhhh….kay. Cheers.” Liam wanders away from the odd bartender, who inexplicably winks at him as he hands over the glass, and finds a quieter spot at the end of the bar. Sipping on his drink (perhaps more quickly than he ought to), he settles in and turns to survey the crowd. His eyes wander over the mass of people writhing on the dance floor. How is he supposed to find Malik and his associates if he can’t even tell if the person dancing not three feet from him is a man or a woman? Liam swirls the liquid in his glass irritably. The beat shifts, and speeds up to an impossible pace. The dancers begin to throw themselves even more frantically about the dance floor. Liam looks up at the dj booth. Is the dj playing a mash up of R. Kelly and….Phoenix? Odd, but it kind of works. The crowd seems to like it, at least. Wait…is that….? No, that can’t be….

“Are you kidding me?” Liam almost drops his drink. It’s Zayn fucking Malik. There’s no way that the man at the dj booth isn’t him…every inch of him screams Malik, from his meticulously styled quiff down to his leather jacket. Well, this makes his job a whole lot eaiser. Because the booth is raised so high above the rest of the bar, Malik can be seen from almost every point in the club. Which, Liam realizes, is probably exactly what he wants.

As Liam watches, a blonde head bobs up out of the sea of people next to the dj booth. That would be Horan, he thinks. Malik reaches over the side of the booth and pulls the shorter man up onto the platform next to him. Horan leans into the other man, pulls away his headphones, and shouts into his ear. Malik leans right back and reaches around Horan’s skinny waist with an equally skinny arm, smiling in response to whatever the blonde is saying. Suddenly, Horan leaps away from Malik and snatches up a microphone from where it’s lying next to the rest of Malik’s dj gear.

Liam chuckles into his drink as Horan begins to shout into the microphone along to the song, dodging Malik’s attempts to grab it back from him. “Sippin’ on coke and rum! I’m like, so what? I’M DRUNK. It’s the freakin’ weekend baby, I’m ‘bout to have me some FUN!” Malik finally succeeds in wresting the microphone from Horan. He ducks Horan’s open arms, denying his hug, and firmly points out of the dj booth. Horan shrugs, leans in again, this time to plant a sloppy, drunken kiss on Malik’s cheek, and then jumps down from the platform. He quickly disappears back into the crowd on the dancefloor. Malik shakes his head, a smile still on his face as his fingers scroll rapidly across the keyboard of his laptop. Interesting, thinks Liam. He’s not quite sure what to make of that little exchange. He sips his whiskey sour and watches Malik as the mash up fades into the next song.

All of a sudden, there’s a voice at his ear. “How’re you doin’, mate?”

Liam jumps about a foot, but somehow manages to stay balanced on his barstool without spilling a drop of his drink. He needs to calm down if he wants to avoid attracting any attention from Malik and his cronies. Steeling himself, he squares his shoulders and turns to face the voice. And then he actually does spill his drink. All over the shirt of one Niall Horan.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, I am so sorry. I can pay for dry cleaning or whatever you need….oh my god I am so sorry..” Liam blabbers as he grabs some cocktail napkins and lurches forward, futilely trying to sop up the mess of whiskey and lemon juice currently dripping down Niall Horan’s white tank top.

“Dude, it’s fine…it’s fine.” Horan brushes Liam’s hands away and grins at him. “It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I just wanted to introduce myself and-”

“No, really. That might stain and-”

“I said it’s fine, man.”

“But I-”

“Look, if you’re that torn up about it, you can just buy me a drink instead.”

_Oh. Okay _. Liam blinks and then smiles tentatively back at Horan. _Don’t fuck this up Payne _, he hears Commander Cowell’s voice say in the back of his head. He can do this. He can buy Horan a drink and make nice with him. This might even be his in!____

“Yeah, sure. Um, I’m Liam. Liam….Parsons. What’re you drinking?”

The blonde’s grin widens. “Niall Horan.” He firmly shakes Liam’s hand. Soft hands, Liam notes with a start. “Certainly not a fucking whiskey sour. Is that what you spilled all over me?” Liam opens his mouth, half in surprise and half to reply, but Horan plows on. “You up for some jager bombs?”

“Bit early in the night for jagerbombs, isn’t it?” Liam manages to squeak out.

“Mate, it’s never too early for jagermeister. Or Guinness, for that matter,” Niall Horan says as he continues to smile. Does the kid ever stop smiling?

“You’re right.” Liam grins back at him, his expression slowly becoming more genuine. Niall’s enthusiasm is infectious, and this isn’t so bad. He can _totally _do this. He signals the bartender again. “Two jagerbombs, please.” This time, the man hands over the drinks and accepts the cash without a snide look or comment.__

“Looks like Phillip’s jealous,” Niall murmurs, still a bit too closely to Liam’s ear (does he have no regard for personal space?), as he accepts the shot of jagermeister and glass of Guinness.

“Who?” Liam asks as he looks around, jager and Guinness still in hand and a bit bewildered.

“The bartender,” Horan clarifies. He leans forward across the bar and shouts, “Green’s a great color on you, Phil!” The bartender neatly flips him off without even sparing a glance back. Even more confused than before, Liam forces a smile and nods in agreement. Niall settles back onto a barstool and fixes Liam to the spot with his big blue eyes. “So, are we gonna do these jagerbombs or not?”

“Yeah, of course, I paid for them didn’t I?”

“Ooooh, I’m beginning to think that Liam Parsons has got a bit of bite to him.”

“And I’m beginning to think that Niall Horan is all talk.” Why had Liam been so worried about this? This is a walk in the park!

Niall’s eyes crinkle in approval as he cries out in mock indignation, “Fuck that! Let’s do em.” The two men simultaneously drop the shots of jager into their tall glasses of Guinness, raise the glasses to their mouths, and lean back, chugging down the drink. They slam their glasses back down on the bar at nearly the same time. Niall sloppily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Liam opts for one of the cocktail napkins. “I beat you!” crows Niall. “I set my drink down first. Loser buys the next round.”

“I didn’t realize that it was a competition!” Liam protests, frowning at the other man. Another round? If he gets drunk he won’t be able to get any intel from Niall.

“Life’s a bloody competition, mate. Loser buys the next round!” Niall insists. Liam can't tell whether or not he's joking. He decides to tease him back.

“You trying to get me drunk?”

There’s a pause as Niall eyes him. “Maybe,” he finally says, smirking. “But you still have to buy the next round.”

Liam rolls his eyes. But really, he doesn’t mind that much. He needs Niall to stick around if he’s to learn anything about Malik. And the kid’s not bad company, either.

They receive their next jagerbombs and chug them in a similar fashion, racing against the rising tide of foam. This time, however, Niall leans back on his stool and carefully regards Liam after they slam their glasses down on the bar. “So, why haven’t I seen you around here before?”

Stay calm, Liam. He’s just making small talk. Right. Cover story. Right. “Um, I, ah…I just moved here. From uh, Wolverhampton.” Shit. Did that sound weird? That sounded weird. Be cool.

“Oh, yeah?” Niall asks, raising one eyebrow as he signals the bartender. “Just two Guinnesses, Phil my love. I think that we need to slow down for a minute. Liam here’s having a hard time getting his story out.”

Story. Shit. Did he know? He couldn’t possibly know. He was joking. Breathe, Liam. “Uh, yeah.” Liam laughs nervously. “I haven’t done two bombs back to back like that since uni.”

“Where did you go to school?” Niall looks up at him from underneath his mop of bright blonde hair as he sips at his Guinness.

“King’s College but-”

“You must be a bloody genius-”

“-I dropped out.”

“Oh. Sorry, I-”

“So, not really a genius.” Liam laughs in an attempt to lighten the mood, since Niall was blushing fiercely. Jesus, he didn’t know that gangsters could _blush _.__

“No, sorry. I, uh, I didn’t even go to uni. If it makes you feel any better,” Niall awkwardly offers.

“Where are you from?” Liam asks. Always keep them talking, preferably about themselves, Officer Kellen had said. Keep them talking about themselves and maybe they would provide him with important information about Malik. “That accent’s not local.”

“No, it’s not. I’m from Ireland. Mullingar, to be specific.”

“So what are you doing here in London?”

“I, uh, followed somewhere here.” Liam notices that Niall drops his eyes down to his Guinness. This is obviously a touchy subject. “But it didn’t work out. So now I’m just tryin’ to make a living.” There’s an awkward pause as the blonde stops talking, unwilling to say anything else about his life.

“Yeah, it’s bloody hard to make a living here. Minimum wage is shit, and London rent is expensive. I wish I could shake a bit more money out of my job, if you know what I mean.” Subtly suggest that you’re in need of money, Officer Kellen had suggested, and maybe they’ll recruit you.

“I feel you. I actually work at a bartender here, but tonight’s my night off. Let’s do another jagerbomb, yeah?” Niall was still smiling, but his glittering blue eyes had turned steely.

Liam smiles back, slightly uncertainly this time. “Hell yeah.” He has to do what he has to do. 

 

The last jagerbomb hits Liam pretty hard. Five drinks (well, eight, really, since the jagerbombs contained a double serving of alcohol) in such a short period was excessive, even for a man of his size. Niall seems similarly affected, his cheeks flushed again. His eyes had turned from steely to glassy as soon as he had pounded his last drink. Now, he leans forward and loosely grabs Liam’s wrist. “You wanna dance, Liam Parsons from Wolverhampton?”

“Yeah, why not? Yes. Definitely yes.” Damn, this kid makes him nervous. Why does this kid make him nervous? He’s a gangster that blushes, for Christ’s sake. Liam lets Niall pull him out onto the dance floor. He’s a bit surprised when the blonde settles in close behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, but he’s too drunk to pull away. Besides, Commander Cowell and Officer Kellen would approve. He’s gaining Niall’s trust, right? And Niall’s trust could lead Liam straight to Malik. Liam leans back into Niall’s chest and closes his eyes, swaying to the music. He lets Niall pull his hips gently back and forth into his own, settling into a sloppy rhythm that’s not too far off of the beat of the music. Liam’s not sure how long they rock back and forth together like that, but he does know that the song changes a couple of times. Suddenly, he feels a hand pull at his shoulder. As he’s dragged away from Niall, his eyes fly open. What the fuck?

Whoever had pulled him forward continues to grab at his shoulder, violently yanking him forward onto the ground. Liam covers his head with his hands and spins around on the ground, frantically trying to roll away from the other dancers. Someone stomps on his leg and he yells out in pain. Cursing, he looks up and straight into the angry dark eyes of Zayn Malik.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Some mild violence. References to drug use.

_Shit shit shit shit _. Liam manages to sit up and starts to scoot away from Malik. This is not supposed to be how he meets Malik. Commander Cowell is going to kill him for blowing the operation already. That is, if Danielle doesn’t kill him first. Shit. Before Liam can escape through the legs of the other dancers, Malik leans forward, gathers the front of his black Henley in his fist, and yanks him back roughly to his feet.__

“Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you grinding on my boyfriend?” Malik shouts into his face. Boyfriend? What the hell is going on? Liam opens his mouth, unsure of what exactly to say the enraged criminal in front of him, when Niall thankfully intervenes.

“You’re not my bloody boyfriend, Zayn. Let go of him.” Not quite what Liam had expected Niall to say, but, then again, nothing about this situation was similar to what he had expected.

“Not anymore! Whose idea was that?” Malik shouts back at Niall. Liam takes advantage of his momentary distraction and twists away from Malik. Malik notices and grabs Liam by the front of the shirt with both of his hands to prevent him from wriggling out of his grasp. “Don’t you even think about moving, you piece of shit,” Malik hisses into his face. Liam pales. Zayn Malik is threatening him. Zayn Malik, notorious thug and suspected drug trafficker, is threatening him. How had this situation escalated so quickly? He shakes his head, trying to remember his undercover training, but his thoughts are blurred, almost completely obscured, by the jagerbombs. What the hell is he supposed to do?

“Both of us, you idiot!” Niall yells above the loud, throbbing bass line. “If I remember correctly, you said that it was a good idea because it would ‘protect’ me!”

“That doesn’t mean that you can come into _my _bar and dance all up on some stranger like a _whore! _”____

“Yeah, well, we all know that you’re quite fond of whores, don’t we, Zayn? Isn’t that the reason that you talked to me in the first fucking pla-” The rest of Niall’s sentence is cut off as Malik drops Liam and lunges towards the blonde instead.

Malik gets one good punch in to Niall’s face, a right hook, before Liam also lunges forward and attaches himself to his back. Even though his thoughts are clouded, his body remembers his years of hand to hand combat training and he manages to drag Malik down to floor, promptly trapping him there. He sits on Malik’s back, one hand restraining his arm and the other pushing his pretty face (such a waste, Liam drunkenly thinks) into the sticky floor of the bar. Having secured Malik, Liam looks up at Niall. Niall stares back at him in shock, clutching his rapidly swelling cheek. “What the-” he starts to ask Niall, but, before he can get out more than two startled words, he feels two new pairs of arms grab him and pull him up off of Malik and back onto his feet. These motherfuckers need to _stop _yanking him around like a rag doll.__

“Get the fuck off of Zayn, you wanker!” Liam tries in vain to pull away from the short brunette who’s currently screaming in his face. Louis Tomlinson. Of course it’s that maniac. Now he’s really in trouble. If he’s lucky, he won’t end up in worse shape than his old partner Tom was after he confronted Tomlinson last year. Liam turns slightly in an attempt to see who’s holding his arms behind him. He catches a glimpse of unruly curls before Tomlinson hits him square on the jaw, putting the full force of his tiny body into the blow. Harry Styles. Gang’s all here. Great. Commander Cowell _is _going to kill him. Liam reels back from the impact of Tomlinson’s fist, but is held up by Styles.__

“Louis! Stop it!” Tomlinson ignores Niall’s shouts and punches Liam square across the face again. “Harry! Drop him! Back the fuck up, both of you.” Liam hears Niall’s voice as if it’s coming to him through thick sheets of plastic wrap. Had the lights in the club always looked like they were swimming towards him through water?

“Zayn grabbed _him _! We were just dancing, and Zayn is just being a possessive little fuck. _Drop _him, I said,” Niall spits out at his friends. Tomlinson carefully sizes Liam up and then looks behind him, nodding to Styles. The lanky man drops Liam’s arms and backs away as Tomlinson turns to help Malik up from where he’s currently sitting on the ground, still attempting to gather himself after being dispatched so quickly by Liam.____

Niall stumbles towards Liam. “You okay?” he mumbles, ignoring the other three men standing behind him.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. Are you okay? I think that dude hit you harder than the other one hit me.” Good. He hadn’t accidentally said their names. Liam mentally congratulates himself.

“Not the first time,” Niall slurs.

“Not the first-” Liam glares back towards Malik, meeting the other man’s challenging stare. What the fuck was going out between all of these guys?

“No, no. Not the first time I've been in a bar fight. ’S fine.” Niall tries to wave off Liam’s concerns but overbalances and pitches forward instead. Liam reaches out to catch him, noting that Malik, Tomlinson, and Styles all start forward to do the same. Really. What the fuck is going on? One moment Malik’s attacking Niall, and the next he’s trying to help him.

“Okay, okay.” Liam steadies Niall. “Why don’t I take you home? You’re still pretty drunk….fuck, I’m still pretty drunk. But I can still take you home…”

Niall sways in Liam’s grasp. “Yeah, okay. But I live above the bar. I don’t want to be around that fucker right now.” Liam assumes that he means Malik.

“You can come back to mine. I live just around the corner.” Niall nods in acquiescence and allows Liam to lead him from The Station without another word to Malik or the other two men.

 

Zayn watches as the stranger with the buzzed hair half drags, half carries Niall out of the door. “What the fuck was that?” he asks, dazed. “Where the fuck is he going?”

“Erm, I’m not sure,” Harry replies.

“Those were rhetorical questions, you idiot,” hisses Louis under his breath. Harry hears him and his face drops slightly, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. Louis smiles apologetically and reaches out to briefly brush at Harry’s hand.

“I’m gonna go.” Zayn interrupts their moment. They can be so sickeningly cute when they're not busy destroying each other. “Jack just took over dj duties….so, yeah. I’m gonna go,” Zayn says, still looking at the exit. He runs his hand distractedly through his hair, not noticing when he pulls it down from its carefully styled quiff.

“Zayn? You alright?” Louis asks, turning away from Harry to focus his full attention on his other friend. Zayn never messes up his hair. Zayn never looks so shaken. For that matter, now that Louis thinks about it, Zayn tends not to attack random strangers in the club. “Did that shithead hurt you?”

“No, Lou. I’ll see you guys later.” And with that, Zayn stalks away from his friends and across the crowded dance floor.

“Man, what’s up his ass?” Louis asks, looking back at Harry.

“Well…Niall isn’t anymore.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry!” Louis grins and smacks Harry lightly on his curly head. “That was positively wicked.” He pauses, still grinning dirtily, and declares, “I love it.”

Harry smirks lazily back at him and leans in closely, shouting above the music, “I kicked some kids out of the second to last booth.” He indicates the row of booths shaded by black curtains.

“I like the way you think, Harold. Lead the way! We haven’t had sex in public for far too long.” Louis beams up at the taller man. “And a fist fight is always the best kind of foreplay, isn’t it?”

Harry snorts. “You’re fucked up, Lou.”

“Yeah, and you like it.” Harry doesn’t deign to reply. He simply rolls his eyes and grabs Louis’s hand, pulling him through the crowd to the booth. Maybe this is one of those too rare nights in which they will actually work, he thinks. One of those nights in which their relationship makes sense.

 

“ _His _bar? Can you fucking believe that? That ungrateful git…I helped him build the business from the bottom up.” Business. Drug business, perhaps. Liam’s interest is piqued as he supports Niall’s drunken weight and they stagger down the street.__

“The business?” he prods. 

“The bloody Station!” So….not Malik’s drug trafficking business. “Do ya know that he wanted these particular _light fixtures _for the bar? So I ordered them specially, and they weren’t cheap, ya know, and then the bastard wouldn’t go pick them up so I had to haul them _all _over this godforsaken city on the bloody Tube! God, and I do his books for him….I don’t know _how _the hell he graduated from secondary school…..he’s absolutely shit at maths…” Books? Is Niall Zayn's bookie? That would be a strange turn of evens, thinks Liam.______

“Alright, alright, buddy,” Liam tightens his grip on Niall as the blonde trips over a crack in the sidewalk.

“Shit, what was that?”

"Don’t worry about it. We’re almost back to my place.”

“You’ve been so nice to me. Proper gentleman,” Niall slurs. “Not at _all _like Zayn…”__

“Thanks, means a lot, I’m sure. Okay, here we are.” Liam awkwardly pulls Niall up the front stairs of his apartment building. “There you go. One foot in front of the other, mate. Just like that. That’s a lad.” He coaxes Niall up another flight of stairs to the front door of his flat.

“This is your flat?” Niall manages to drunkenly get out.

“Yeah, sure is. Hold on…I need to find my keys…” Liam lets go off Niall and fumbles through his pockets. Fuck, he’s still drunker than he wants to be. Taking advantage of Liam’s preoccupation with his missing keys, Niall manages to straighten up and then sway (slightly less gracefully than he would like to) forward into Liam’s personal space. It takes Liam a moment to realize that the blonde’s managed to move on his own, but, when he does, he’s concerned.

“Hey, are you o-” Niall cuts off Liam’s query as he leans in and presses his lips firmly to those of the other man. Liam freezes. They had certainly not discussed _this _in his undercover training. What the hell is he supposed to do? How the hell does he respond to this?__

Niall takes Liam’s stillness as a sign of encouragement and pushes even further into Liam’s personal space, grabbing Liam by the hips and pressing him back against the front door of his flat. When Niall deepens the kiss and gently bites down on Liam’s lower lip, he’s shocked out of his moment of indecision.

“Fuck!” Liam exclaims as he pushes the blonde away. Niall sways on his feet, and Liam immediately reaches out again to steady him.

“Yeah,” Niall replies, misinterpreting Liam’s reaction. “That was something. We should do it again. Maybe inside your flat? Or your bedroom? Or both, ya know, since your bedroom is inside your flat…” he drunkenly rambles.

“No…um, it’s just…um. I’m not…I’m not interested. I’m straight.”

“Wait.” Niall rears back and squints at Liam, blinking as if trying to clear the veil of drunkenness from his eyes. “You’re not gay? I thought…” He leans back even further in Liam’s grasp. “I thought you were gay. You bought me a drink. You _danced _with me. Like, _danced _with me.”____

“No, I….I’m really drunk. I was just trying to make friends…I just moved here, so I don’t have any. Friends, that is. I wasn’t trying to…send you mixed signals. Or lead you on. Or whatever…” Liam trails off, hoping that Niall will buy his explanation. It’s not like he can come clean and tell Niall that he’s only been talking with him in hopes of gleaning some information about his apparent (ex?)boyfriend.

Niall frowns and finally manages to pull all the way away from Liam, propping himself up on the bannister of the stairs instead. “I can’t even be mad at you. You look like a little puppy that’s just been kicked.” Liam isn’t sure whether he ought to be offended or flattered.

“Um, okay.” Liam pauses. He doesn’t want to mess up and waste the last chance that he might have to gain Niall’s trust. Not that he hadn’t already shot that to hell by rejecting the kid’s advances, he thinks.

So,” Niall clears his throat and breaks the awkward silence, kicking at the wall. A nervous habit. “I’ll just head on back home to The Station. Catch a cab or summat.”

“Mate, no,” Liam blurts out, surprising both himself and Niall, who starts. “Uh…you can’t go back. Your….friend….or whatever…just punched you in the face! And you’re way too pissed to get back on your own. You can just crash at mine.”

“On your bloody sofa, right? Not in your bed.”

“Um, I already told you that I’m straight….” Liam says, surprised by Niall’s sudden vehemence.

“No, sorry. Sorry. I’ve uh, I’ve been sleeping on a lot of couches recently. It’s great. Thank you for doing me a favor, man.”

“No problem,” Liam replies uncertainly. Just when he thinks he knows what to expect from the blonde, he surprises him with an abrupt change in personality like that. Getting information out of him is not going to be easy. Liam glances down at the keys that he’s finally managed to find, and realizes that they’re still standing outside of his flat. He unlocks the door and holds it open for Niall. “Shall we?”

He grabs some blankets and a glass of water for Niall, and then settles him down on the couch. “Thanks again, mate. Jesus. I got you into a fight at a bar and then I put the moves on ya and this is how you repay me.”

“I mean, I did spill a drink on you. So we’re even.” Liam smiles back at Niall. Right. Friendship. He can do this.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do this.” Niall heaves a sigh and pulls the blanket up over his shoulder, smiling sleepily at Liam. Liam thinks that it’s not a half bad look on the blonde. “I swear that I’m not always such a train wreck.”

“’S alright. I kind of like trains.” Liam replies, winking at Niall as he closes his bedroom door. Niall sinks down into the couch and slowly dozes off into a fitful slumber full of flying fists, cropped hair, and soft, puppy brown eyes.

Liam kicks off his shoes, peels off his clothes, and pulls on the boxers that he prefers to sleep in. The black ones had always been Danielle’s favorite. He slips into bed and then leans back over to root in the drawer of the table next to his bed, fishing out his burn phone. Sergeant Kellen had advised him to leave it at home for the first mission. Liam assumes that this is in case he had been jumped and searched at the bar. Which isn’t too far from what had actually happened, now that he thinks back on it. Actually, that’s _exactly what had happened._

He unlocks the screen. Two missed calls from a blocked number. Danielle. He shoots off a text to a number that he’s memorized (no contacts in a burn phone, Kellen had instructed him). _I’m fine. Some unexpected developments. Will be in contact tomorrow _. He doesn’t put “I love you” at the end of the message like he wants to. Danielle will probably show the messages to Cowell and Kellen, after all. Liam rolls over and falls into slumber every bit as fitful as Niall’s.__

 

The next morning, Niall wakes up to a lumpy couch (which is normal) and a strange apartment (which is not so normal). He groans and lies back down, clutching at his head as the events of the previous night come rushing back to him. Fuck. Had Zayn hit him because he was dancing with that guy? That fucker. He was probably in that guy’s apartment right now, then. He was on the couch, though, and still clothed, so they probably hadn’t slept together.

Niall sits up again and blearily takes stock of his surroundings. It looks like he’s in a fairly normal bachelor pad; there’s a little kitchen corner sectioned off by a counter with three barstools, a coffee table and a television in front of him, and a door that presumably leads to Liam’s bedroom and bathroom. His name is Liam, right? Right.

As if Liam can hear Niall thinking about him, he opens the door of his bedroom and steps into the living room. “Oh, you’re up!”

“Yeah.” Niall blinks sleepily at him, still not fully awake. Is the man really just wearing those black boxers? He’s probably still dreaming, he determines. There’s no way Liam is just wearing his underwear. There's no way that his abs look like that. That his chest looks like that. Is the dude a fucking superhero?

Liam stifles a laugh at the clearly disoriented blonde on his sofa and moves into his little kitchenette. “So, do you want eggs for breakfast? Or are you more of a toast guy? Or both?”

Is this straight boy really standing half naked in his kitchen, offering to cook him breakfast after letting him crash on his sofa? The dude is too good to be true, thinks Niall. “Uh sure,” he manages to splutter out, caught off guard. “Both would be a great. And a cup of tea wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it?”

“Not at all, mate.” Liam replies, looking over his shoulder to smile at Niall, before he turns back to the stove. Niall takes the opportunity to let his eyes slide appreciatively over the muscles in Liam's back, stretching and pulling as he maneuvers the skillet, and down to the curve of his ass. He has to ask this dude about his work out routine. 

This is nice, Liam thinks. The last time he’d shared a breakfast with someone had been when Dani cooked sausages in an attempt to preemptively apologize for failing to telling him about his undercover assignment ahead of time. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. Her. Missed her, of course.

The eggs are cooked, the bread is toasted, and the tea is prepared in no time. Niall joins the scantily-clad Liam at the counter. “You’re too nice, Liam.” Liam just shrugs at him, his mouth full of eggs. So. He had the name right then. “Thanks for all of this,” Niall continues.

Liam smiles and waves his hand in Niall’s direction. “It’s not a problem! Happy to help. You don’t have to keep thanking me.” There’s that blush. Niall ducks his head, trying to hide his flaming cheeks. “Besides, I’m not entirely selfless. I am new to the area and I am looking for friends.”

Niall grins back at him. “Ah, I see. You’ve got a master plan.” He’s joking, Liam. Joking. “You get blokes drunk, platonically take them back to your place, install them on your couch, and ply them with a delicious breakfast in hopes that they’ll be your friends.”

“You’ve caught me! What gave it away?”

“You made omelets instead of scrambling the eggs! No one makes omelets unless he has ulterior motives.”

“You’re probably right,” Liam says, watching as Niall blushes and ducks his head yet again.

They eat the rest of their breakfast in a companionable silence. As he eats, Niall notices the fishing rods leaning up against the wall. “You fish?” he asks, eyeing them.

“Yeah, my dad used to take me when I was a kid. I never threw the rods away. I’m a little sentimental, I suppose.”

“Well, seeing as you’re looking for new friends, we should go fishing sometime. I haven’t been in ages….not since I moved away from Ireland.”

“Really? That would be great! Here’s my number…” Grabbing a pen from a cup on the counter, Liam scrawls down the number of his phone (careful not to mix it up with the number of his burn phone) on Niall’s hand.

Niall bites the inside of his cheek. Does this stupid straight boy even realize that he’s flirting? “Cool, I’ll call you. We’ll definitely go fishing.” Niall hops down from the barstool. “It’s been good meeting ya. Thanks for letting me stay, and for breakfast. I’m sorry about your face.” He gestures towards the brilliant bruise blooming across Liam’s face. “Kind of suits you though.” It’s his turn to wink at Liam. Liam walks him to the front door and holds it open. “I can find my way out of the building. See you on the flip side, Liam Parsons.”

“See you, Niall.” Liam closes the door and leans against it, his breath whooshing out of him. The first part of his mission is over. What a night. Shaking his head, he walks back into his bedroom to his burn phone. What the hell is he going to tell Danielle? Thankfully, he gets voicemail when he calls her.

“Hey, Dan-Sergeant Payzer. Last night was interesting….I met Niall Horan at The Station. We got on fairly well, and he seems to have bought my cover story. I uh, also….ran into…Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles. Horan got into a bit of an argument with them and I….intervened. But I think that my relationship with Horan has a lot of potential…he could be my in to the group. I think that I’m going to try to befriend him. Anyway, that’s it for now. Give me a call back and tell me what you, Sergeant Kellen, and Commander Cowell have to say. Talk to you soon.” Liam puts the phone back in the drawer and lies down across the bed. He hadn’t lied, exactly. He’s not sure why he doesn’t report Niall’s kiss. He just doesn’t.

 

A couple of steps outside of Liam’s apartment building, Niall unlocks his phone as well and answers the incoming call.

“What’s up, Lou?” growls Niall, not particularly excited to be speaking to his friend this early in the morning. Especially not after that little stunt he pulled last night. 

“You tricky little bastard! What the hell happened last night?”

“I don’t know, Lou. Why don’t you ask yourself? You were the one who punched my friend in the face,” Niall angrily bites out.

“Whoa there, Princess. Calm your tits. I thought that he was beating up Zayn!”

“Well, he wasn’t-”

“And he’s your _friend _?” interrupts Louis. He’s annoying even on the phone.__

“Yes,” Niall answers shortly.

“Just a friend? Are you telling me that you _didn’t _hit that last night?”  
__

“It’s none of your business, _Louis _.” Niall really only calls him by his full name when he’s pissed at him.__

“Yeah, yeah. You obviously didn’t get any. You wouldn’t be so irritable if you had. Tell me, is he really bald or was I just drunker than I thought I was last night? Is he a skinhead? Are you trying to bang a _neo-Nazi _, Niall?”__

“He’s not bald and he’s not-” Niall huffs out an impatient breath. "Did you call just to taunt me? Because if you did-”

“Are you coming back home?” Louis suddenly changes the topic. “Zayn’s worried about you-”

“Zayn’s worried about me? He attacked Liam for _no _reason!”__

“Oh, so his name is-”

Niall cuts Louis off. “I’m _not _Harry,” he spits out. “Zayn doesn’t have to ask you to check up on me. If he wants to talk to me, he knows how to reach me.”__

“Don’t talk about Harry like that,” Louis says back harshly, his anger palpable even across the airwaves.

“Sorry, sorry,” mutters Niall. First rule: never talk shit about Harry when Louis is around. Niall already knows that. “I didn’t mean it in that way. I know…I know you just called me because you care. I’ll see you later today, okay?”

“Yeah, later.”

 

Louis hangs up the phone and looks at Harry, who’s lounging in the bed next to him.

“Is he okay?” Harry asks, pretending that he didn’t hear Louis snarl his name into the phone.

Louis drops a hand affectionately to his hair, running a finger through his dark curls. “Yeah, babe. I don’t know what the fuck is up with Zayn and Niall, though. I thought that they were over it. I thought that they were going to be fine as friends.”

Harry shrugs and snuggles closer into Louis’s side. “I thought we proved that you can’t be fine as friends.” Louis frowns and opens his mouth to rebuke him, but finds that has no words for the younger boy. Harry breaks their uncomfortable eye contact (when had it become uncomfortable to look Harry in the eyes?) after a few moments and gestures half-heartedly towards the still half-packed bong on the bedside table. “You gonna hit that?”

“No, Haz. Go ahead. It's all yours.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some appropriately adorable (I hope) Niam bonding! Again, a lack of Zayn/Harry/Louis in this chapter but they'll be back with a vengeance in the next chapter. Also, I just uploaded the first chapter of a Ziall prequel to this fic, if anyone's interested in checking that out as well. Whoo!

“Jesus Christ,” Niall huffs under his breath as he struggles in vain to untangle his fishing line for the third time that day. How long has it been since he last went fishing? His brother Greg used to take him all of the time as a kid…Nope. Don’t think about Greg. Don’t think about your family, Niall.

“Here, let me help.” Liam reaches over with a small smile and plucks Niall’s fishing rod out of his grasp, thankfully interrupting his train of thought. The blonde kept hopelessly tangling up the wire every time he cast his rod. Liam examines the knot closely. “Nah, that one’s not coming out. Lemme thread a new line for you.” Reaching back into his kit, he pulls out a spool of fishing wire. He carefully winds the knotted line out of the spinning wheel and attaches a new one to it. Niall dips a hand into the clear, cool water to the side of their little rowboat and covertly watches as Liam expertly reels the new line into place.

“Thanks, man. Sorry I’m such a fuck up.”

“Not a problem.” Liam hands the rod back to Niall and picks up his own, sighing happily as he does so. “Great day for this, innit?” The water is still about them, rippling and waving only so slightly with the briefest touch of the breeze, the cloudless, blue sky reflected in its mirror-like surface.

“It’s beautiful. I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in forever,” Niall replies as he squints up at it from underneath his snapback. “Thanks for taking me out here, and for renting the truck and the boat and everything.”

Liam looks up from examining his fishing rod and grins at him. Niall thinks that he’s probably just imaging the little flip that his stomach does. “Mate, thank you for coming out here with me. I’ve gotta call my mum back in Wolverhampton and tell her that I’m making friends. Well, a friend.” Liam realizes half a second after the words come out of his mouth that he actually means this. He really enjoys spending time with Niall. It’s just because I haven’t been fishing in a while, Liam thinks. And because I’m totally alone in that god-forsaken flat. Not because the blonde’s company is so pleasant. He’s a petty criminal, after all.

“Friend, hmmm? Who said we were friends?” Niall jokes as he lazily casts his rod.

Liam just laughs in response, leaning over the side of the boat to splash Niall.

“That’s it!” Niall shouts as Liam drenches him with water, his patience finally exhausted. He reels his rod back in and places it on the bottom of the boat. “We haven’t caught any fish in the last hour, apparently I can’t remember how to properly cast my rod, and I’m soaked. I’m going for a swim.” The blonde shoots upright, standing straight in the boat.

“Niall! Sit down! You’re going to tip the boat!” Liam shrieks as he drops his own rod in favor of clutching onto the sides of the little rowboat.  
“Serves ya right for splashing me,” Niall cheekily replies as he kicks off he shoes and then strips off first his hat, then his tank top, and finally his shorts. He winks at Liam and then dives out of the boat, his lithe body slicing quickly through the air and then into the water. Liam clutches to the side of the boat even harder as it rocks one last time and then settles back onto the serene surface of the lake.

“Niall!” he shouts in reproach, leaning over the side of the boat in an attempt to spot him. Niall surfaces a few feet away, laughing uncontrollably as he flicks his dripping hair out of his blue eyes.

“Come on in! It feels great.”

Liam glares at him. “You’ve definitely scared the fish away now, with all of your yelling and splashing.”  


Niall raises an eyebrow as he treads the water, his defined chest bobbing up and down out of the lake. Not a big deal that I’m noticing his chest, Liam thinks to himself. Or his biceps. Just some friendly appreciation.

“Mate, I’m not convinced that there _are _any fish in this entire lake. Stop being a spoil sport and get in!” Liam quirks an eyebrow right back at him, not responding, and struggles to keep a smile off his face. “Yeah, I see your smile. You might as well come for a swim if I’ve _scared _the fish away,” Niall intones, mimicking Liam’s voice surprisingly well. He grins, noting Liam’s surprise. “I’m pretty good with voices. Betcha didn’t know that!” Yeah, but I do know about your arrest record, Liam silently thinks.____

“It’s good that you have _some _talent, seeing as you can’t even cast a fishing rod,” he snarks back instead. In the short amount of time that he’s spent with Niall at the bar, at breakfast, and, now, out on the lake, he’s learned that the blonde loves to get exactly as he gives. Sarcasm and flippant remarks seem to earn his respect. Liam finally pulls up the hem of his own shirt and Niall ducks down under the water to hide his face, predictably flaming at the sight of the other man’s defined abs. Fuck his fair skin. Liam is going to notice his constant blushing at some point, right?__

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall mutters as he resurfaces. “Are you getting in or what?”

Liam reaches down to pull of his shoes, and then his shorts. He awkwardly slides over the side of the boat, the resulting splash not quite as graceful as Niall’s dive. He paddles over closer to Niall. “I’m in now. Happy?”

“Nope,” Niall replies shortly, before reaching over to grab Liam’s shoulders and dunking him underwater.

Liam surfaces, spluttering as he chokes out water. “This is how you repay me for taking you fishing?” he shouts, pretending to be annoyed. His smile gives him away. Niall’s teeth glint in the sun as he smiles in return, back pedaling quickly away from Liam. “I’ll show you, blondie!” Liam reaches towards the shorter man.

“Gotta catch me first!” And then Niall’s off, turning to swim away across the lake as Liam splashes after him.

 

“How was fishing?”

“It was fun. Err…fine. It was fine.” Liam puts Danielle on speaker as he putters around his kitchen preparing spaghetti. He’s starving after horsing around all day with Niall in the sun.

“Did you learn anything?” Danielle doesn’t need to say about what.

“Nope, nothing. He hasn’t been talking about Malik, and I don’t know how to bring it up without seeming suspicious. At the very least, he’ll think that I’m snooping around. Worst case scenario, he’ll figure out that I’m a cop.”

“So the only thing we have so far is a drunken comment indicating that Niall used to keep Malik’s accounts for him.”

“Right.” Liam dumps some noodles into the boiling pot of water and stirs. “But we don’t know whether Horan’s involved in drug trafficking with Malik or if he was just referring to the bar’s expenses.” He pauses. “He doesn’t really seem like the type to be involved with drugs….especially not the buying and selling of _heroin _.”__

"Does he seem like the type to beat another man into a bloody pulp during a bar fight? Because he did that a couple of months back remember? You’re not undercover to do a psychological profile on one of Malik’s accomplices, Liam. You’re there to gather intel about _Malik _,” Danielle reprimands him sharply.__

Liam frowns to himself as he pours pasta sauce into a small pan and sets it on the stove, rotating a knob to turn on the burner. She doesn’t have to be so snappy about it. “Yeah, I know. I thought that we all agreed that the easiest way for me to do that is to get close with Ni-Horan.”

“We did. But make sure that you’re focusing on Malik, and not on this Horan character.”

Liam flushes. “I’m not focusing on Horan. I’m focusing on completing this mission. Being undercover fucking sucks. I can’t wait to get back to my…. _our _…life. I miss you, Dani.”__

“I know that it’s hard, babe.” Dani’s voice softens imperceptibly before steeling again. “But you’ve got to keep your head in the game. The sooner you figure out what Malik and his cronies are up to, the sooner you can come back home.”

Liam nods, even though Danielle can’t see the motion over the phone. He tries not to think about the fact that, again, she’s failed to say that she misses him. It’s probably nothing.

“Yeah, I-” Liam is cut off by the ringing of his other phone. “Hold on, I’ve got another call.”

“ _On this phone? _”__

“No,” Liam huffs. “Give me some credit, Dani. Hold on.” He puts down the burner phone and grabs his cell. “Hello?”  


“Hey, Liam.” It’s Niall. “I, uh, just wanted to call you and say thanks for taking me to the lake today. I had a lot of fun.” There’s an awkward pause.

“Oh, err…me too. We should do it again sometime.” Liam puts Niall on speaker as well so that Dani can hear him and returns to the stove.

“Yeah, that’s actually why I called. I was wondering if I could take you out-um, buy you lunch…tomorrow. Since you spent all that money on the truck and the rowboat….” Niall trails off uncertainly.

“Sure. I have work tomorrow, but I get an hour’s break at noon.”

“You work at Moe’s Coffee House, right?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet. There are some good restaurants in that area. I guess we can just choose one when we meet up tomorrow….” Niall trails off again, and Liam wonders if he’s just really bad at talking on the phone.

“Sounds good! I’ve gotta go….I’m cooking dinner. But I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see ya.” And with that, Niall hangs up.

Liam leans over to make sure that the call has been completed, and then addresses Danielle. “Did you hear all of that?”

“Yes. This is excellent. See if you can bring up Malik when you see him tomorrow. The most desirable outcome is for Horan to invite you to hang out with Malik.”

Dani, Commander Cowell, and Sergeant Kellen still don’t know that Malik had thrown him down on the floor the first, and only, time that he had met him, and that Malik had then proceeded to punch Niall in the face. Things had gotten even stranger when Malik’s friends Tomlinson and Styles had joined the fight, and when Niall had kissed him later that night. During Liam’s training, Sergeant Kellen had stressed over and over again the importance of disclosing all pertinent information. Liam frowns again as he strains the pasta and removes the pan full of sauce from the stove. He can’t be completely honest with the other officers. If I am, he thinks, they’ll pull me from the mission. For as much as he tells Dani that he hates being undercover, he’s determined to bring down that asshole Malik and his crew. It’s the least he can do after Tomlinson savaged his former partner, Tom, last year. He wants to put that bastard behind bars. After the altercation at The Station the other night, he really wouldn’t mind doing the same to Malik and Styles.

“I’ll try. Did you ever end up buying that turtle?” Liam switches the topic, nervous because he can’t tell Dani exactly why it’s going to be so difficult to get Niall to invite him to hang out with Malik and the others.

“Not yet. I’ve got to go, Liam. I need to brief the Commander and Sergeant Kellen on everything you’ve told me. If the Commander approves of it, Sergeant Kellen and I might discretely tag along tomorrow in an unmarked squad car to observe you and Horan.”

“Oh, err. Okay.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t blow your cover.”

“I know. I trust you, Dani. You’re good at your job…you’re not a Sergeant for nothing.” Liam chuckles, trying to alleviate his anxiety. They were going to observe him? Shit.

“Good luck with Horan tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Dani replies, and then she’s gone. Liam looks at the two phones, lying side by side on the counter. Living like this is fucking with my head, he thinks to himself as he pours some noodles and sauce onto a plate. His life with Dani in their comfortable flat feels like a distant, flickering memory that he can’t quite grasp, and his only tangible link to his past life is this little phone without any contacts in it. The silence of his empty bachelor pad presses in on him claustrophobically as he sits down at the counter to eat his dinner. Has he really only been undercover for three weeks?

 

“This is so fucking good. How did I forget how good their chicken is?” Niall moans around the sandwich that he’s currently wolfing down. Liam stares as Niall succeeds in shoving the rest of it into his mouth and then follows it up with a handful of fries, not even pausing to breathe.

“How do you…? Never mind, I don’t want to know. This is disgusting.”

“What?” Niall swallows his food and glances over at Liam. The two men are seated across from each other at the outdoor patio of a little restaurant. Liam looks at Niall with barely concealed revulsion, his own sandwich lying untouched on his plate. “Your food is disgusting? I’ll eat it," offers Niall.

“No,” Liam clarifies. “Watching you shove that sandwich down your throat is disgusting. I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

Niall smirks up at him, grinning around another mouthful of fries. “You’re just saying that because you’re straight.”

“Wha-” Liam’s eyes widen comically and then narrow in suspicion as he glares at Niall.

“If you were gay you would _love _watching me shove things down my-”__

“Yeah, I get it,” Liam interrupts. “Now I’ve _definitely _lost my appetite.”__

Niall sniggers in response. “Can I have your food, then?”

“You’re actually the worst.” Niall just winks back and leans across the table to steal a few of Liam’s fries. “Do you even know me well enough to make jokes like that?”

“Hey, _you _said that we’re friends. Friends let friends make dirty jokes, mate.” Liam rolls his eyes and picks up his sandwich, not deigning to reply. Niall snorts. “I see how it is.” Liam smirks and continues to eat his sandwich, still silent. “Okay, okay. Let’s talk about something else. How was your morning?”  
__

“It was alright. There was a dude who demanded a new latte because I made it with two percent milk instead of skim. Like, how could he even tell? Prick.” Liam should probably be worried about how easy it is to spill his guts to Niall. Oh well. He mentally shrugs it off. 

“The nerve!” Niall gently mocks, imitating Liam’s deep timbre again. He’s getting fairly good at it. Niall reaches across the table again to steal another handful of fries. This time, Liam lightly slaps his hand away.

“It doesn’t count as buying me lunch if you eat half of it.”

Niall looks up at him, his blue eyes twinkling. They are _quite _blue, Liam thinks distractedly to himself. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’ll order another side of fries.” He waves at the waiter and points at his empty basket. The waiter just nods and turns away. Apparently Niall’s a regular here. Not really surprising.__

They sit in a comfortable silence as Liam continues to eat his sandwich. After a few minutes, the waiter returns with a new basket of fries. “On the house, Niall.”

“Aw, thanks Andrew. You’re the best.” Niall delves into the food.

“No problem.” The waiter glances over at Liam, carefully considering him. Liam cocks an eyebrow back and the man turns to face Niall again. “Call me some time, will you? I had a lot of fun last time we...hung out. I can give you my number again if you’ve lost it…”

“Nah, I still have it. I’ll definitely hit you up soon.” Niall smiles at the man (Liam notes that the smile doesn’t quite make it to his eyes, nor does it reveal his teeth) and then looks back down at the fries, dismissing him. The waiter shuffles off with another look back at Liam.

“Bit rude.”

“Huh?” Shit. Liam hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“I just meant, it’s a bit rude of him to hit on you. We could be on a date or something,” Liam says. Wait, is he irritated? Why is he irritated? Liam’s face twitches as he mentally reprimands himself.

Niall shrugs and mumbles around yet another mouthful of fries, “Wait, we’re not on a date? I paid for your food!” he snickers to himself.

Liam shrugs back, a similar motion to Niall’s, and looks away from the blonde and back at the street, watching a few cars pass by the patio. From his spot at the table, he can barely make out the unmarked squad car containing Sergeant Kellen and Dani.

Niall notices that Liam’s shoulders have stiffened slightly, and mercifully changes the subject from the waiter and his forwardness. “Have you checked out that music store down the street yet? It’s fantastic. They have a lot of old vinyl records.”

Liam shakes his head and swallows another bite of his sandwich. “I didn’t even know that there was a record store in this part of town.”

“Really?” Niall leans forward, eyes twinkling excitedly. “We should go after we finish eating! Do you have time?”

Liam checks his watch. “I can get back to the coffee shop a couple of minutes late. My boss owes me one for staying late to count inventory the other night.”

“Let’s do it!” Niall smiles (this time it does reach his eyes, Liam notes) and continues to scarf down the fries.

Liam clears his throat. This could be his chance. He needs to work Malik into their conversation somehow. “Yeah, I haven’t really been able to explore this part of the city yet. I would love to see more of it.” Maybe Niall will get the hint and invite him out with his friends.

Niall’s mouth twists in amusement. “You fishing for a second date, Parsons?” The awkwardness of a few minutes ago is already forgotten.

“Second? Did that lake trip not count? Or that first night of the bar?” Liam teases. Niall’s face drops at the reminder of their scuffle with Malik, Styles, and Tomlinson. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that. “Uhh…sorry. I didn’t mean….I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Niall waves him off. “No, it’s fine. I just still feel bad about that. I mean, what a welcome to the neighborhood.”

Liam shrugs and does his best to appear calm and unbothered. “It’s cool.” He pauses, uncertain of how to proceed. You have to do this, Payne. Get it together. He knows what Dani and the Commander would want him to do. Mention Malik, damn it. “Why did your friend come at us like that, anyway? I think I remember him shouting about you being his boyfriend or something…” Liam trails off, pretending that his memory about that night is hazy. It works.

Niall snorts into his drink, his face hardening. “We….had a thing. Yeah. He was my…boyfriend for a bit. And then he wasn’t.”

Liam laughs and spreads his hands, trying to lighten the mood. “That was vague. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry or anything.”

“No, it’s fine. It ended a while ago. We agreed to stop sleeping with each, and I finally moved out last month.” Niall notes Liam’s questioning look. “We weren’t together…I was just crashing on his couch until I found a new place to live.” He shrugs, and looks absently down at his plate, his food long forgotten. “It’s complicated, I guess.”

“Is….he…the person you followed from Ireland?” Liam asks. It’s hard to remember not to use Malik’s name. Focus, Liam. Niall looks up sharply at him. Damn it. Maybe he had pushed too far. Why on earth would he have remembered a detail like that, drunkenly slurred to him over the sound of the loud music at the bar? “We, uh, don’t have to talk about it…shit. I’m really bad at making new friends…”

Niall relaxes as his face crinkles into a fond smile. “Dude, relax. I’m not offended. That whole situation was shitty, so it’s hard for me to talk about it.” He cocks his head at Liam. “What about you? Any ladies in your life?”

Liam feels a twinge in his gut as he thinks about Dani, her soft smile and even softer curls. Her laugh as her toned arms shoved him away from their stove. “No,” he finally replies. “Not…not anymore.”

“Well, shit. This conversation got really sad really quickly.” Niall belches and pushes his now empty plate across the table. “You need to get out and meet more girls, mate!” He pauses, considering something. “Why don’t you come to The Station tonight? I’m a pretty good wingman.”

_Yes _. Liam has his in. He masks his excitement. “You sure that your ex-boyfriend won't tackle me? Or that his friends won't punch me in the face?"__

Niall wags a finger at him. “They know better. I gave them a stern talking to.” He leans back in his seat, those blue eyes shining again. Really blue, Liam thinks for the second time that day. “Besides, I think that they’re gonna like you. After tonight you might be able to call your mum and tell her that you have more than one friend.”

“Shut up.”


	7. Chapter Seven

Liam nervously pulls at the collar of his shirt-Dani had picked a graphic tee and dark jeans this time-as he walks into The Station. It’s only 11 pm, relatively early for most of London’s night time revelers, but the bar is already packed. He worms his way through the dance floor, looking for that shock of bright blonde hair. He’s circled the room twice when he stops and frowns to himself. Maybe Niall isn’t here yet?

“Hey! Liam! Over here!” Liam wheels around to find Niall smiling brightly at him from behind the bar. The blonde waves him over with an enthusiastic hand. 

“Hey mate! Turns out I’m on duty tonight. Phillip called in sick.”

“Oh…okay. Well we could just hang out tomorrow-”

“No, no.” Niall flips his hands at him again. “Sit down! Sit down! What do you want to drink?”

Liam grins and takes a seat at the bar, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows. “Surprise me, bartender.” Niall winks in response and moves down the bar. Liam takes the opportunity of his momentary absence to glance furtively around the bar. There’s no sign of Malik or any of his accomplices. Liam’s not sure whether or not to be relieved.

“Here ya go.”

Niall slides him a short tumbler of amber liquid and ice cubes. Liam raises the glass, silently toasting his friend, and takes a generous swig. “Shit!” He coughs immediately and pounds at his chest as he slams the glass-still half full-down on the bar. “Bloody hell.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Niall reaches over the bar to pound his back, and then swiftly leans back to pour him a glass of water. “Here, drink this.” Liam takes it and gulps it down.

“Shit.”

“Sorry, I thought you liked whiskey.” Niall’s cheeks are predictably flaming as he silently curses himself. “You were drinking a whiskey sour when I first met you so…” he trails off uncertainly.

Liam coughs again. “Yeah, I just usually don’t drink whiskey straight. Or any liquor straight, really.”

The smile returns to Niall’s face as he realizes that Liam isn’t mad at him. “We can fix that. But in the meantime…” He takes the tumbler back from Liam, cracks a can of soda, and pours it into the tumbler. He sighs to himself. “Shame to pollute Jameson with soda.” He slides the tumbler back to Liam. “But try this instead. Whiskey and ginger. A little bit manlier than your goddamned whiskey sour, but just as tasty. Promise.” Liam looks at him warily. “I promise!” Niall insists. “Would I lie to you, Liam me heart?” He winks again, this time an exaggerated motion. Liam blushes and takes a cautious sip of the drink to hide his crimson face.

“It’s not bad.” He reaches to his back pocket to fish for his wallet but Niall shakes his head emphatically.

“Nuh-uh. You’re not payin’ for nothin’. It’s on me.”

“You bought me lunch today! You can’t buy me drinks as well.”

“We’ll put it on Phil’s tab then, since he made me cover for him on such short notice.”

Liam smirks into his glass, remembering the haughty bartender. “Okay.”

“Another?”

 

A half an hour and three drinks later, Liam is fairly buzzed. He watches as Niall flits around behind the bar, a blur of wide smiles and blonde hair. Niall turns this way and that, mixing drinks, grabbing cash, and flirting rakishly. Liam can’t seem to take his eyes off him. And then, suddenly, there’s a movement at his elbow.

“Hello, mate. You’re Niall’s boy, right? I’m Louis.” Tomlinson is standing behind him, sharp little canines showing in his smile. Where did he come from? _Don’t hit him _. _Don’t hit him _.____

“Uh….yeah. I’m Liam Parsons.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam. Sorry for punching you in the face the other night. Misunderstanding, you know?” Tomlinson plunks down on the bar stool next to him. Liam forces himself to take Tomlinson’s proffered hand.

“’S alright, mate.” He smiles tightly. “No hard feelings.”

“Great. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it? What are you drinking?”

“No, it’s fine. Niall’s actually paying for my drinks. Well, technically that other bartender is but-”

“Oh is he?” Tomlinson daintily quirks an eyebrow and looks down the bar at Niall, who’s currently chatting up three girls at the same time. “All the same, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Whiskey and ginger.” Tomlinson sharply nods, and turns back to catch Niall’s attention. He points at Liam’s glass and Niall juts out his chin in acknowledgement, turning to root under the bar for another can of ginger ale. He mixes a drink for Tomlinson and then walks carefully over to them.

“Alright, then?” he asks, eyes darting to Liam.

“Well of course, Niall dear. I was just talking to your handsome friend here. Liam, was it?” Tomlinson addresses Liam, but stares at Niall as he hands him cash in exchange for the drink. He has a challenging smirk on his face, and Niall answers it with a frown. Liam looks uncertainly between the two. What exactly is going on?

“Yeah, my name’s Liam.”

“Brilliant. Keep the drinks coming, Niall. Are mine on you, too?” His eyes glint dangerously.

Niall rolls his eyes, breaking the tension. “Yes, your highness. And no, you’re paying.” As he walks back down the board, he stops to lean in close to Liam. “You good?” he whispers. “He can be….a bit much.” He tilts his head slightly towards Tomlinson, who studiously pretends to ignore them as he sips at his drink.

“It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

Niall claps Liam on the shoulder, his mouth twisting into a grin. “I know you can.” Liam watches him walk away. He doesn’t stare at his ass. Not really.

“So Liam.” Tomlinson catches his attention. “What do you do for a living?”

“I work over at Moe’s Coffee House. I started a couple of weeks ago.” He pauses and shifts in his seat. Casual conversation with violent thug Louis Tomlinson. Right. “What about you?”

“I’m....an entrepreneur.”

“What kind of business are you in?” Tomlinson looks over at him sharply over the rim of his glass. Liam grins back at him, hoping to convey through his body language that he’s being playful.

“ _The _business,” Tomlinson says shortly, refusing to rise to the bait. Liam’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Did Tomlinson really just hint at being a criminal? Maybe this night won’t be a waste after all. Tomlinson’s mobile buzzes, and he’s momentarily distracted. “Harry!” He squeals into the phone. Liam is startled by the abrupt change in his tone of voice. “Where are you? Oh, you are? I’m over by the bar.”__

Louis downs his glass and Liam follows his lead, albeit sipping a bit more slowly. Several moments later, Liam sees a lanky man pushing towards them through the crowd. Styles. He stops briefly to talk to Niall and accept a drink. Styles leans in close as he pays Niall, purring something into his ear. Niall flushes and smacks him lightly on the back of his curly head in response. Styles turns, grinning, and slinks down the bar towards them. Liam doesn’t notice that his fist has tightened slightly about his glass, but Tomlinson does. He quirks his eyebrow again. Interesting. And then his boyfriend moves to stand in between his legs, breaking his train of thought as he wraps long arms about his neck.

Liam looks pointedly away, still sipping on his whiskey and ginger. After a beat, Tomlinson pulls away from Styles. “Liam, this is my boyfriend Harry.”

“Harry Styles,” Styles repeats as he leans forward slightly to shake Liam’s hand, one arm still slung around Tomlinson.  


“Liam Parsons.” Styles’s hand is surprisingly gentle in his. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Hasn’t Niall picked such a polite one?” Tomlinson exclaims, beaming at Styles.

“We’re not actually dating, you know. I’m straight.”

This time it’s Styles who answers him, all grinning dimples and big green eyes. “Shame.”

Liam decides to play along and smiles back. “And why’s that?”

“Such a waste of such a great ass.” He leans around Tomlinson to get a better look at Liam.

“Harry!” Tomlinson squawks indignantly. “You can’t even see his ass! He’s sitting down! Besides, you’re supposed to like _my _ass the most.”__

Styles swoops down to kiss his cheek. “Of course I do, boo. I was just testing him.” He turns to flash those dimples at Liam again. “Congratulations, you’re not a homophobic idiot.”

These two are too much, thinks Liam. He raises his glass. “Cheers, mate.”

 

Liam is rescued a half hour later when the shift changes and Niall gets off the clock. By this time, he’s moved to one of the private booths with Tomlinson and Styles, and Liam has heard the entire story, in great detail, of how they first met (“And then Harry went home with _me _instead of Zayn-that’s the bloke I pulled you off of the other night-even though he had made out with _Zayn _in the bathroom earlier in the night. Zayn was _so mad _that I broke the code!”).______

Niall slips in through the little crack that they’ve left in the curtains, sliding into the seat next to Liam. He reaches over to squeeze Liam’s knee lightly as he settles in. Liam’s heart definitely doesn’t leap into his throat. Distracted by Niall’s brief touch, Liam doesn’t notice that Tomlinson is looking at him sharply with thoughtful, narrowed eyes.

“How’s it going lads?” asks Niall as he reaches across to snag Styles’s drink.

“Hey!” Styles protests.

“Thought you were only having one drink, Harry.” Niall teases him as he takes a sip. Tomlinson turns his gaze from Liam to Niall, who shrinks immediately back into his seat. Liam senses the abrupt change in mood and shifts nervously in his seat. Obviously Niall’s comment has hit a nerve.

Niall opens his mouth to speak, thinks better of it, and hangs his head sheepishly as he offers the drink back to Styles, who doesn’t lift a hand to take it. After an awkward pause, Niall sets the glass down in front of him. Styles reaches out one long index finger to slowly trace around the base of the glass, wiping up the condensation.

“Yeah, I was just gonna have one. You can finish it.” Styles finally replies. He stares determinedly down at the table, refusing to meet the gazes of either Niall or Tomlinson. Next to him, Tomlinson shifts to possessively grip the back of Styles’s neck as he glares at Niall.

“It’s fine. I don’t really want it.” Niall coughs into his fist as he nervously glances at Tomlinson, breaking the prolonged silence. “I was gonna steal Liam away from you two and take him back to the bar, anyway. Give you guys some alone time.”

Tomlinson finally smiles at that and slides his hand up to ruffle Styles’s curls. The mood lightens almost instantly, and Liam breathes out quietly. He hadn’t even noticed that he was holding his breath. Tomlinson has that effect on people, he supposes.

“How considerate of you. You kids have fun.” Tomlinson spares one last glance to Liam before leaning back to attach himself to Styles’s face.

Niall grabs Liam’s hand to pull him out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they start dry humping.”

Styles flips Niall off behind Tomlinson’s back, and Liam laughs in spite of himself. He really doesn’t want to like these guys, he thinks despairingly to himself. And then Niall _does _pull him out of the booth and onto the dance floor.__

“Sorry about that.” Niall leans in to shout into his ear, as the throbbing sounds of the music increased once the clock hit midnight. “Harry’s got…he’s got a problem. With substances, y’know?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Liam shouts back, unsure of what else to say.

Niall shrugs dismissively. “It’s not so bad anymore. He’s getting better.” He looks away from Liam, obviously not wanting to talk about it. “Anyway, want another drink?”

“I’m not sure if I should-”

“ _Yes _, Liam, the answer is _always _yes. We’ll get you another whiskey and then we’ll find you a girl.” Between focusing on keeping his cover and being mildly entertained and also slightly terrified by the antics of Styles and Tomlinson, Liam had almost forgotten about their mission for the night.____

“Oh, yeah. Right. A girl.” Niall grins encouragingly at him and leads him to the bar.

“Two whiskey and gingers, Emma!”

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t answering your phone.” Liam starts at the unfamiliar voice, and Zayn Malik appears to melt out of the crowd before them. Oh shit. This is what Liam wanted, but now, seeing the man in front of him, he starts to panic.

Niall reaches back to absently pat his pocket. “Sorry, mate. It’s on silent. And I’m off the clock now, so…”

“No, no. Not _looking _for you. I just wanted to see if you were around and-” Malik stops abruptly, suddenly noticing Liam. “You going to introduce me to your friend?” he growls, eyeing Liam.__

“I don’t know, are you going to throw him on the ground this time?” Niall snarks back, refusing to be intimidated by Malik’s lowered voice.

At that, Malik winces slightly and almost seems to wilt. “No, sorry.” He squares his shoulders and turns to Liam. “Sorry, mate.” He doesn’t sound very sincere. “I’m Zayn. Zayn Malik. I’m not usually that much of a douche when I meet someone for the first time but…” he trails off, shrugging one shoulder, and Liam steps in graciously.

“It’s fine. I’ve already forgiven Tomlin-Louis, so I can’t keep a grudge against you. Wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“No.” Malik gives him one last considering glance before he turns back to Niall. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” he says, his face steely. And then, before Niall can reply, Malik has melted back into the press of sweaty bodies.

“Of course I’ll fucking see him around, I live above his fucking bar,” Niall grunts.

“What?” Liam shouts back, unable to hear him clearly above the pounding bass.

“Nothing! Ah, there’s a lass. Thanks, Emma.” Grateful for the interruption, Niall takes the two glasses of whiskey and ginger and hands the bartender a slim wad of cash in return.

“You can’t keep buying me drinks,” Liam slurs into Niall’s neck, leaning into him. Niall’s neck shivers underneath his breath, and they both pretend not to notice.

“Nonsense, Liam Parsons. I’ll do whatever I damn please and you can’t stop me.” Niall grins and pushes the cold glass into Liam’s hand, deftly shrugging the taller man’s body off of his own with the same movement. “Now drink up and let’s find ya a lady friend.”

 

“I just really don’t want another, chick, y’know?” Liam’s words tumble around in his mouth, his lips tripping over familiar consonants.

“Another chick? I thought you broke up with your girl,” Niall replies as he pulls Liam out of the cab and towards his flat. Liam thinks that it’s funny that they did this exact same thing only a week ago, except that their positions had been reversed and he had drunkenly pulled Niall up the stairs. He giggles into Niall’s shoulder, abruptly stopping when the blonde’s question sinks in.

“Uhhh….yeah,” Liam backtracks. "I did. I just meant….I don’t want another chick. I just want her.” That’s true at least. He doesn't want another _chick _. A certain blonde Irishman on the other hand...__

Next to him, Niall somberly nods his head. “I feel ya, man.”

Liam squints suspiciously down at him. “You don’t even like girls,” he says accusingly.

“Thank you, Captain obvious. I just meant…..I understand only wanting one person. And not being able to get over that one person.”

“Are you talkin about Malik? Errr…Zayn?”

Niall flicks him playfully on the nose. “Maybe I am. Why are we having a heart to heart right now, anyhow? You won’t even remember this in the morning.” He continues to haul Liam up the stairs.

“I _will _. I’m not _that _drunk.”____

“Mate, you’re pretty pissed. You couldn’t even remember your name when you were talking to that girl.” Shit. Niall had noticed when Liam had slipped up and had failed to remember his fake last name. _Parsons _, not Payne. He’s Liam _Parsons _now. Luckily, Niall seems to find his slip up endearing rather than suspicious.____

“Uhh….I was nervous. She made me nervous!” Liam pouts at Niall, who laughs at him.

“You’re not so smooth with the ladies, huh? Guess that’s why you’re flying solo tonight.”

“’M not solo! I have you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They finally reach the front door of Liam’s flat. Niall holds Liam up by a firm grip on his bicep as Liam fumbles for his keys. Liam can feel the heat from the proximity of Niall’s body, and he flushes, remembering the first night that he met Niall. Remembering how Niall had leaned in and then pushed him up against the door… “Alright, mate?” Niall thankfully interrupts Liam’s dangerous train of thought.

“Yup, here m’ keys.”

“Do you need help getting in or-” There’s a strange sort of hopefulness in Niall’s eyes as he bounces up and down on his toes nervously. Liam thinks about what would happen if he says yes. Would Niall tumble through the door with him? Would he push him up against the wall just like he had pushed him up against the door, thumbs pressed tightly into his hipbones? Would he kiss-

“No! Nope! ‘M fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

And then Liam is inside of his flat with his door shut, leaning up against it without the warmth of Niall plastered against his side. He goes to bed without checking the burn phone.

 

Across town, Danielle sits at their kitchen table staring at her own mobile. The time on the stove clock reads 4 am. If Liam hasn’t checked in by now, he’s either dead or still involved with Malik and his gang. She wipes an errant tear from her cheek. The latter, she thinks desperately. It has to be the latter.

 

“Mate, you look like shit.” Liam turns around at the low, rumbling voice to find Harry Styles standing on the other side of the counter. It’s too fucking early in the morning to be dealing with a hardened criminal. He better get a good fucking bonus for going undercover.

“You gonna order something or are you just gonna stand there and insult me?”

“Both?” And there’s that cheeky dimpled grin. Liam tries not to let the corners of his mouth quirk up in response, and fails. Styles’s grin grows larger at the sight of Liam’s smile. “Erm…can I get a small coffee? And a chocolate chip muffin?”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Cream and sugar, please. Oh….and, erm….can you add another small coffee to my order? Black with two sugars. For Zayn.”

At the mention of Malik’s name, Liam’s head snaps up of its own volition. He feels Styles’s eyes boring into the back of his neck, and refuses to look away from the coffee machine. What kind of reaction is the man looking for? He had to have purposefully mentioned Malik.

“Sure thing. Coming right up,” Liam says in a steady voice. He readies Styles’s order and rings him up.

“Thanks, mate.” Styles’s tips him generously.

“My pleasure. Have a good day.” Liam has become unfailingly polite and slightly cold, and he knows that it seems odd. Pull it together, he thinks.

Styles turns to leave, holding the two coffees and the muffin, thinks better of it, and then spins back around to address Liam again.

“Erm…did Niall invite you to karaoke tonight?” Styles asks uncertainly.

“No, he didn’t. But I don’t think I could handle two nights out in a row with you blokes anyway.” Liam laughs, the sudden tension that had arisen between them at the mention of Malik dissolving just as easily.

Harry flashes those dimples in return, his long, tense body visibly relaxing. “Right…well. You should come! It’s Niall’s favorite….he’s a really good singer. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve only known him for like a week so…” Liam shrugs his shoulder.

Styles eyes him carefully. “Well, you two’ve been…..spending a lot of time together…considering that it’s only been a week.” The lad really does speak very slowly, Liam thinks absently to himself. “I think Niall’s quite taken with you…” Styles continues, still examining him. “Platonically, that is. Platonically taken with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” The door tinkles as another person enters the coffee shop. “I’ve got to help this next customer…but maybe I’ll see you tonight?”

“Hopefully.” And with that, Styles finally leaves the shop. He joins Zayn Malik, who, Liam realizes, has been standing outside smoking a cigarette the entire time. Malik stares at Liam through the glass window pane for a beat, before breaking his gaze to drop his cigarette and take one of the coffees from Harry. The two turn to walk down the street, and Liam turns back to the counter.

“How can I help you today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long! I've been swamped at work, and I will be for the next month or so. Hopefully I'll be able to keep updating regularly.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long....work has been crazy. I've got half of the next chapter written already, so that should be up sometime soon.

“Black, two sugars. Just the way you like it.” Harry beams at Zayn as he hands him the coffee. Zayn drops his cigarette and takes the coffee, turning away from the boy inside the coffee shop.

“Thanks.” He takes a sip and then looks sideways at Harry. “Who’s he?”

“Don’t play coy, Malik….that’s my job. You know who he is.”

“Yeah, I know who he is. I met him the other night. Didn’t tackle him this time.” Zayn shoots a crooked grim at Harry. “What’s his name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Playing coy is definitely not your job,” Zayn shoots back, sulking as he sips at his coffee again.

Harry grins down at him as they walk down the busy sidewalk. When did that fucker get so tall? “Jealous of Niall’s new boy toy?” Harry holds his hands up defensively when Zayn scowls at him. “Well, you’re in a great mood today. I just bought you coffee…. jesus….you should at least be nice to me.”

“I’ll be nice to you when you stop fucking around,” Zayn growls as he abruptly turns to cut across the street. Harry yelps and dashes across the busy road to follow him. They walk a few more steps in silence before Harry decides to pipe up again.

“They aren’t…..erm….they aren’t dating. Niall’s just taken a shine to him, that’s all. His name….erm, is Liam. Liam Parsons, I think?”

Zayn snorts into his coffee as he weaves through the other pedestrians, Harry following closely behind him. “He forgave me for attacking him, can you believe that?”

Harry smiles dreamily. “Nice bloke, isn’t he? He said the same thing to Lou.”

“I’m sure he’s very nice,” snaps Zayn. At that, Harry reaches an arm out to grab Zayn’s shoulder and swing him around. The taller man’s brows furrow in concern as he forces Zayn to make eye contact with him.

“What in the bloody hell has gotten into you lately?” Harry demands. Zayn jerks back out his grasp, surprised. Harry hates direct confrontation. Or confrontation of any sort, really.

“Nothing’s gotten into me lately. Jesus Christ. Will you stop grabbing me?”

Harry folds his arms across his chest and plants himself in the middle of the sidewalk, undeterred by the dirty looks other pedestrians shoots him as they bump around him. “Something has gotten into you, you git. Stop being a dick and tell me what’s wrong.” Zayn’s mouth opens, mostly in shock, but Harry continues before he can reply. “You broke up with Niall, or it was mutual,” he hastily adds when he sees Zayn’s eyes flash. “Or whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s been a year, Zayn. Get the fuck over it and get your head out of your ass before you ruin your friendship with Niall.”

“Um,” is all Zayn has to say back to Harry’s tirade. He hasn’t heard the other man string so many words together in a long, long time. “Okay?” he uncertainly says, eyeing Harry nervously.

At that, Harry smiles and starts forward again, looping a lanky arm about Zayn’s neck. “Good. Glad that’s settled.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at Harry, but wraps an arm about his waist anyway. “Me too,” he huffs out a laugh. Harry’s charm really is irresistible. He understands now why Louis keeps giving him chances. It’s impossible to say no to those big green eyes. “Now hurry up. You’re gonna be late for your first day of work!” Last night, spurred into a state of drunken loneliness after running into Niall and his new friend, Zayn had promised Harry that he would walk with him to his first day as an intern at the local radio station. On the condition that Harry buy him coffee, of course.

“We’ve still got half an hour!” Harry blinks owlishly down at Zayn as they continue to walk down the street. Zayn just hums absently in response, dodging an elderly woman and her three swinging shopping bags. “I’m really….erm, I’m really excited about this job. I really hope that this one works out. Y’know?”

“You’ll be great, Harry.” Zayn tightens his arm reassuringly around his friend’s waist.

“Y’really think so?” Harry asks him anxiously. Harry’s attempts at honest work usually end in disaster and fresh track marks up his arms.

“Yeah, ‘course!” Zayn smiles sadly up at him. “You’ve really turned it around this time, Haz. I know you can do it.” As if on cue, Zayn’s mobile rings, interrupting their conversation. He fishes it out of his coat pocket. It’s a blocked number. “Hello?”

“It’s Lloyd. Heard you were asking around about me.”

Zayn pulls his mobile away from his ear. “Shit. Uhh…this is really important, Haz. D’you mind…?”

“No, no.” Harry waves him off. “I understand. I can walk myself the rest of the way. See ya later.”

Zayn mouths one last apology to Harry before turning around to head back to The Station, speaking into his phone as he does so. “I was, yeah. I’m thinkin’ about going into business by myself. And I thought that you could be of help.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Zayn holds his breath. He’s determined to start distributing heroin to the dealers in the surrounding area, and his plan largely hinges on the fact that he’ll be able to funnel Lloyd’s product through The Station. And then, after he’s moved the product, he’ll be able to launder the profits through the bar with the help of Niall and his math smarts. But first, he has to actually purchase the heroin. Lloyd’s product isn’t the best, but he was the most dependable supplier that Zayn worked with back when he was still Paul’s errand boy. If a man in such a cutthroat profession can ever be called dependable, that is.

“Ambitious.” Lloyd’s answer is as curt as the man himself.

“I’ve got the capital.”

“Doubtful.”

“I can give you twenty five percent up front. Cash, obviously.”

“I need half. You know that, Malik. But even if you do have half what makes you think I would sell-”

“Thirty percent.”

“Thirty five percent. And that’s only because I think you’ve got balls, lad.”

“Deal.” Thank God the man doesn’t ask how Zayn has the money, because Zayn knows that he can’t tell him. The Station only opened a month ago, and all of the money generated by the bar still has to be put towards its renovations and such. Still, Zayn had managed to illicitly squirrel away some money last year when Paul sent him to rob a rival gang. But that’s a different story.

“You’re not working with that lunatic Tomlinson, are you? Because if he’s involved, I will not-”

Zayn lies through his teeth. “No, he’s too much of a liability.”

“Good. How much are we talking here?”

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose as he answers, keeping his voice as steady as possible when he replies. “A kilo.”

“Are you mental?”

“Lloyd, you’re big time. I know it, you know it. We both know that you don’t move small quantities of product.”

Lloyd’s silence on the other end of the phone reminds him that Lloyd’s phone is probably tapped. Right. Zayn knows that. He’s not an amateur. He flushes as he waits for Lloyd to reply, hoping that he hasn’t blown his shot with his poor choice of words.

“You tryna take over Hackney, Malik? Paul won’t be happy about that.”

“Is this gonna work for you? Because I can call someone else-”

“No, no. If you’ve got thirty five percent, it’s fine. I’ll send someone around later today. You gonna be at your new place?” Of course Lloyd knows about The Station. He didn’t get so far in the game by not paying attention to his surroundings. There’s change afoot in London’s criminal underground, and Lloyd can probably taste the shifting winds.

Zayn clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Great.” And then Lloyd hangs up. Zayn exchanges his mobile for his pack of cigarettes. He lights up as he pushes through the crowd back towards The Station. Fuck, he thinks. This might actually work.

\------------

“You’re gonna regret this.”

“What? No! I love karaoke, you love karaoke. It’ll be a great time.”

“Yeah, but Haz and Lou are crazy. I don’t want them to scare you off.”

Liam notes that Niall doesn’t mention Malik. “They won’t.” He reaches across the table to lightly punch Niall in the shoulder. “I haven’t run away screaming yet, have I?”

Niall snorts into his beer. “It’s only a matter of time when you’re hanging out with these lads.”

“I’ll be fine. If that story about how they met didn’t scare me off, nothing will.”

“Oh, you mean when Harry blew Zayn in the bathroom but then went home with Louis later in the night?”

“Louis said that Harry made out with Zayn in the bathroom!” Liam squawks.

As if on cue, Tomlinson and Styles come loudly bursting through the door, Malik trailing closely behind them. Niall cackles at Liam’s shocked face and then turns to wave them over to their table. Tonight, the crew has ventured out of The Station to a nearby dingy pub for its weekly karaoke night. According to Niall, they haven’t missed a night since he first moved from Ireland to London.

“I never said that you couldn’t use my shampoo! I told you that it’s fine. And don’t tell me that it won’t work on your bloody curls, because it will. Hey, Niall. Liam,” Tomlinson spits out in one breath. Liam and Niall open their mouths to respond, but Tomlinson has already turned back to Styles. “So there’s really no excuse for not washing your hair for your first day of work. I mean, really Harry.”

“Your first day of work! How was it?” Niall cuts across Tomlinson, smiling encouragingly at Styles. Liam notices that Malik hangs back behind the animated duo, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Strange. Is notorious criminal Zayn Malik nervous? Because of him?

“Fine. I need a beer,” grumbles Harry. Tomlinson leans over to kiss him on the cheek, their earlier quarrel apparently already forgotten.

On me, babe. You’ve earned it.”

Malik mimes gagging and then speaks for the first time since walking into the pub. “You two get more and more sickening every day.” Tomlinson rolls his eyes and walks away to the bar, his hips swinging jauntily. Harry ignores Malik and sits down at the table next to Liam. Malik follows his lead and takes a seat next to Niall, as far away from Liam as possible.

“Just fine?” Niall presses, undeterred by Harry’s unresponsiveness.

“Yeah. I was just fetching coffee and making copies all day…so…..nothing exciting.”

“Well, you gotta work your way up.”

“Yeah, I know. It still fucking sucks.”

Tomlinson reappears surprisingly fast and clutching three beers. He hands one each to Styles and Malik, and then comically smacks his forehead. “Shit! Where are my manners? Liam, do you want a beer?”

“No, m’fine thanks. I had a bit too much to drink with you lads last night.”

Tomlinson smirks at him. “Yeah, it happens.”

Niall waves his hand in front of Tomlinson’s face to get his attention. “Hey, dickhead. Where’s my bloody beer?”  


“Sod off. You’re still working on yours.”

Niall winks at him in response and then twists in his seat to talk to Harry again. Tomlinson takes a seat close to Liam.  


“So….you gonna sing?” Tomlinson asks. Liam notices Malik glancing over at them, covertly eavesdropping as he sips at his beer. He turns slightly away from Malik in order to answer Tomlinson’s question.

“Maybe. I’m not much of a singer. But Harry said that Niall is.”

“Oh, yeah. Isn’t he, Zayn?” Tomlinson cuts his eyes over Liam’s shoulder, smirking at Malik. Apparently Liam hadn’t been the only one to notice Malik’s snooping.

“Yeah. Phenomenal.” Malik reaches over to punch Niall lightly, eerily mimicking Liam’s gesture from earlier. Liam feels his right hand twitch irritably. Calm down, you idiot. He’s just jumpy because Malik makes him nervous. Not because he hates seeing Malik’s hands on Niall.

“You flatter. But yeah,” Niall winks at Liam. “I’m definitely gonna sing a song tonight.”

“Not before I do!” Harry suddenly crows as he shoots up from the table, startling everyone. Malik curses as he slops beer all over himself.

“That beer certainly seemed to have revived you, Haz,” Tomlinson chuckles. Harry doesn’t hear his boyfriend, as he’s already moved off towards the makeshift stage at the front of the pub. Tomlinson looks after him with a big smile on his face, but then drops his head to look at the floor when he notices the other men looking at him.

Niall’s mouth also quirks up into a smile, and he leans in to murmur into Liam’s ear. “It’s been a really long time since Harry’s gotten up to sing at karaoke. It’s good that he’s more himself, y’know?” Liam nods, although he doesn’t quite understand. As Niall leans back into his chair, Liam catches Malik staring at them with burning eyes. What the fuck is up with this bloke? His musings are interrupted by the sound of Harry clearing his throat into the microphone.

“Um….so…..hi.”

“Hi!” The crowd brightly choruses back.

“So….um….I’m Harry Styles. I’m gonna be singing Sex on Fire, by The Kings of Leon. And…um….this song is dedicated to my boyfriend, Louis. Because….well….you guys get it. Right? The sex is on fire?” The crowd jeers in response. “Yeah. You get it. Okay. Here goes.” And then the steady, repetitive guitar chords of the song crackle out from the sound system.

Liam had started to cringe a bit at Harry’s awkward introduction, so he is wholly unprepared when Styles opens up his mouth and a husky, sexy singing voice pours out.

“Lay where you’re laying. Don’t make a sound. I know they’re watching…..they’re watching….all the commotion. The kiddie-like play. Has people talking, talking.”

Liam catches Niall’s eye. “Holy shit. Where did that come from?” Niall just winks at him and points back up at the stage, where Harry has reached the chorus.

“Youu…your sex is on fire. The dark of an alley. The breaking of day. The head while I’m driving. I’m driving. Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale. Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying.” And then Harry leans into the microphone, wraps his hands around it, and snarls into it. “Youuu….your sex is on fire.” The crowd erupts, and Niall pulls Liam to his feet with him. “Consumed,” And Harry leans forward even more, tilting the mic stand forward and whipping the hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head. “With what’s to transpire. Hot as a fever….rattling bones. I could just taste it, taste it. It’s not forever, if it’s just tonight. Oh it’s still the greatest… the greatest…the greatest.” And now the entire bar is singing along. “Youuu…your sex is on fire.” Harry straightens back up, pulling the mic with him, and bounces on the balls of his feet to the beat. “And youuu,” Harry growls out, pushing his sweaty curls off of his face as he stares down at his boyfriend. “Your sex is on fire. Consumed with what’s to transpire And youuuu,” And now he’s wrested the mic free of the stand and is bouncing across the stage as the drums kick back in. “Your sex is on fire. Consumed…with what’s to transpire.” Then Harry is thrusting his fist up into the air twice with the two ending beats, and abruptly folding in half for his bow. He doesn’t even pause to acknowledge the applause and cheers before he’s sweeping down from the stage.

“Err….’scuse me lads,” is all Tomlinson manages to squeak out before Harry reaches their table and grabs his wrist, pulling him purposefully towards the bathroom to the wolf whistles and cat calls of everyone else in the pub. As the din dies down, Liam again looks at Niall.

“I mean….holy shit. What?”

“Yeah, I know.” Niall grins at him. “Harry is full of surprises.”

“I see.” Liam dissolves into laughter as Niall companionably slings an arm around his shoulder. When he finally catches his breath and looks up, Malik is across the pub talking to striking girl with purple streaks in her bright blonde hair. He feels Niall’s arm tighten slightly about his shoulder and turns his head to look at him instead.

“How is anyone gonna follow that up?” Liam asks, hoping to distract Niall. He won’t get any information out of the man if he’s tense.

“I’m sure as hell not going to.”

“No! Come on! Everyone keeps telling me that you’re a great singer. I want to see for myself!”

Niall takes a sip of his beer and considers Liam carefully over the rim of his glass. “Okay,” he finally says. “But only if you get up there too.”

“Deal!” Liam sticks his hand out to shake Niall’s. Build trust, build camaraderie, Sergeant Kellen had said.

Niall seems surprised by Liam’s easy acquiescence, but takes his hand anyway. “You still so sure that you’re not gonna regret this, Parsons?”

Liam feels a twinge in his gut at the use of his fake name. I’m Liam Parsons right now, he thinks. I’m playing the part of Liam Parsons. This is not my real life, and Niall is not my real friend. But he forgets his worries as soon as those bright blue eyes catch his again.

A few songs later (none as good as Harry’s, of course), Tomlinson and Styles return giggling, breathless, and disheveled from the bathroom. Malik is still stationed on the opposite side of the pub with the blonde girl, and Liam notices that Tomlinson’s eyes dart briefly to them.

“That was fast,” Niall says, wiggling his eyebrows at his friends.

“They call it a quickie for a reason, my little Niall,” Louis snarks.

“Oh, Niall knows _all _about quickies in the loo,” Harry interjects.  
__

Liam chokes violently on air at that comment, and Niall is distracted from hitting Harry as he instead pounds Liam on the back for the second time in as many nights. “You alright, mate?”

“Yep. Fine,” Liam gasps, clutching his throat.

“Choke on your invisible beer?” Tomlinson raises a delicate eyebrow at Liam. “Did it go down the wrong pipe?” Harry not-so-subtly kicks Tomlinson under the table, and Liam’s face turns a deep shade of red.

“Erm….”

“Sod off, Lou. Liam, you wanna go outside for a mo’? Smoke a cig?”

“Yes.” Liam manages to splutter out. He hopes that his eyes manage to convey his gratefulness. As they walk out, the eyes of Malik, Tomlinson, and Styles all follow them. They reach the patio of the bar, and Liam heaves a sigh of relief. His sigh quickly turns into a chattering of his teeth, which Niall notices immediately.

“Cold?” he asks. Liam nods frantically. “Here.” Niall pulls off his jumper and passes it to Liam. “Us Irish are warm-blooded.”

“Thanks,” Liam murmurs as he pulls the jumper over his head. A silent moment passes, and then Liam looks questioningly at Niall when he doesn’t pull out a pack of cigarettes.

“Um…I don’t….I don’t actually smoke much. I just wanted to get away from the Tommo. Figured you did too.”

Liam snorts. “Yeah. Thanks, mate.”

Niall nods at him and then leans forward, bracing his arms on the railing of the patio. Liam moves to stand next to him, copying his motions. There’s another moment of silence, and then Niall speaks again. “So….do I know you well enough to ask about your tattoos?” He’d first noticed them that first morning when Liam had cooked for him, and he’d gotten quite the eyeful at the lake other day. And now, his curiousity had been piqued when he spotted Liam’s ink covered forearms peeking out from his jumper as he put it on.

Liam shrugs. “I s’pose you do. I don’t really know how to explain them, though.”

Niall twists so that his back is at the railing and he’s looking up at Liam. “Try?”

“Well, this one,” Liam yanks up his left sleeve and holds out his arm for Niall to examine the looping script. “Says ‘Everything I wanted but nothing I’ll ever need.’ I guess it just reminds me that I’ll be fine no matter what happens....even if I lose everything I care about.”

Niall cocks his head and runs a finger lightly over the words. Liam feels something crackle up his arm and then down his spine, and tries desperately to ignore it. “This one...” He pulls up the right sleeve of Niall’s jumper. “I liked the pattern. I wanted to have a tatt on both forearms….balance it out or whatever.” Niall repeats his earlier motion and runs his fingers over the four chevrons marching up Liam’s arm.

Liam clears his throat and rolls the sleeves back down. “What about you?” he asks, trying to shift Niall’s attention away from him. Shift his _hands _away from his body. “Got any tattoos? I didn’t notice any when we were swimming.” Liam blushes at his own comment, biting his lip.__

“No. I want to wait until I’m absolutely sure of what I want.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” There’s another silent pause, but this one is somehow pregnant with tension. Niall shuffles his feet, casts his eyes towards the ground, and, after a moment, speaks.

“S’pose we should go back in then. Th’lads will be wondering what we’re doin’ out here.” His voice sounds thicker, and his accent has come out a bit. Strange, thinks Liam. Wonder why.

“Sure.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! The next update should be up by the end of the week :)

“Niall! Niall! Niall! Niall!” 

“Shut up Lou. The whole pub is not gonna chant for Niall.” Malik snaps from his seat next to Harry. As soon as Niall had gotten up to sign up for karaoke, he had ditched the blonde girl in favor of sitting back at their table. Liam’s eyes, currently creased in concern as his fingers tap lightly on the table, dart nervously to him and then away again. He’s not quite sure how to deal with Malik without Niall close by. Luckily, his dilemma is solved when Niall bounces energetically onto stage. 

“What’s happenin lads?” he booms into the microphone. Liam notices that Tomlinson’s eyes flick over to Malik, who has suddenly gone rigid in his chair. Odd, he thinks. Malik has been tense all night, but he seems to be particularly uncomfortable now that Niall has taken the stage. “I’m gonna sing some Ne-Yo for you tonight.” Niall’s statement is met with some appreciative cheers, and he winks cheekily at the audience as his accompanying music begins to play. 

“Gotta change my answerin machine, now that I’m alone. Cuz right now it says that we can’t come to the phone. And I know it makes no sense, cuz you walked out the door. But it’s the only way I hear your voice anymore.” 

Liam sits up straighter in his chair, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. As surprised as he had been when Harry had started to sing, he’s even more surprised now. Where Harry’s voice is low and husky, Niall’s is as clear and beautiful as a bell. Niall notes his surprise and sends one of his brilliant smiles towards him as he continues to sing. 

“It’s ridiculous. It’s been months, for some reason I just…can’t get over us. And I’m stronger than this. No more walkin around with my head down. I’m so over bein blue, cryin over you.” Niall closes his eyes, leans into the mic, and belts out the chorus. “And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin you were still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?” 

And then Liam gets it. Niall is singing about Malik. He looks over at the other man, who is still sitting rigidly in his chair. He hasn’t moved an inch since Niall first came on the stage. As Liam looks away from Malik, he catches Harry’s gaze. Harry cocks his head questioningly, and Liam blushes in response. Harry just gives him a small, sad smile in return before turning back to watch Niall. 

“Gotta fix that calendar I have, that’s marked July fifteenth. Because since there’s no more you, there’s no more anniversary. I’m so fed up with my thoughts of you, and your memory. And now every song reminds me of what used to be.” Niall pauses, and his eyes flit open. “That’s the reason I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin you were still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?” Liam looks back at Malik, whose hands are now tightly curled into balls in his lap. 

“Leave me alone, stupid love songs. Don’t make me think about his smile, or havin my first child.” At the use of the male pronoun, Niall’s catches Liam’s gaze and holds it. Liam blushes again, but this time he’s not quite sure why. 

“I’m letting go, turning off the radio.” And then Niall rips the mic out of the stand just as Harry had done earlier. However, he remains rooted in the same spot, hands clasped tight around the mic as he wails into it. 

“Cuz I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin he was still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn of the radio?” Wolf whistles of appreciation issue from the crowd as Niall hits a particularly high, clear note. 

“And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin he was still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. Why can’t I turn off the radio?” 

Tomlinson waves a hand at Niall and screeches, “You tell ‘em, lad!” “And I’m so sick of love songs,” The music cuts out and the crowd begins to clap along with the beat of the music. “So tired of tears. So done with wishin you were still. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?” And then Niall’s eyes slip shut again and his voice lowers into a murmur. “Why can’t I turn off the radio?” 

The rhythmic clapping of the crowd melds into enthusiastic applause and Niall sweeps into flippant bow, a huge grin stretched across his face. 

“Maybe now they’ll chant Niall’s name!” Tomlinson sniggers. Malik abruptly pushes his chair back and shoots to his feet as Niall comes down from the stage. 

“I have to go,” Malik is talking to them, but his eyes are fixed on Niall. Harry snatches Malik’s wrist before he can move away. Liam glances between the two of them anxiously. Sergeant Kellen and Dani had told him to ingratiate himself with the boys, but now he seems to be in the middle of a conflict again. Shit. He has the worst luck. Or maybe he just sucks at this whole undercover thing. 

“No, Zayn!” Harry pleads, still clinging to Malik. 

“I know when I’m not welcome. He fucking mocks me while introducing himself and then he sings that song to me? There’s no fucking way….” Malik trails off and then seems to gather himself, his chest puffing out in anger. “I’m out of here,” he growls, pushing Harry away as he ignores the other man’s big, begging eyes. 

“Not everything is about you, Zayn.” Tomlinson snaps. 

“Maybe not. But that little stunt sure was-” 

“He was looking at Liam while he was singing.” Everyone’s eyes snap to Harry, who claps a hand comically over his mouth. “Erm…I mean…” The curly haired man spreads his hands apologetically. “Maybe the lyrics are a little too….erm…angsty for him to be singing about someone he met a week ago. But he was looking at Liam.” 

Liam can hear a faint roaring sound in his ears, and his vision is momentarily obscured by bright white spots. He shakes his head, clearing it just in time to see Malik whirl on his heel and disappear into the crowd without another word. 

Harry blushes and Tomlinson turns to look thoughtfully at Liam. Tomlinson looks as if he’s about to speak to Liam, but then Niall is in their midst. Surprisingly, Harry recovers first. “Great song, mate!” He exclaims. Niall smiles at him and reaches out to ruffle his curls.  
“Thanks, Haz.” He looks at Liam, but doesn’t say anything to him. Instead, he hold his gaze for a beat before turning instead to Tomlinson. “Where’s Zayn?” 

“He had to leave. I think he went home with Perrie.” Tomlinson has a perfect poker face. Maybe he actually is a psychopath, Liam absently reflects. 

Niall nods at his response, his face studiously blank, and then turns back to Liam. “So….you’re up next. I already signed you up.” 

“I don’t know….” 

“We made a deal! You promised!” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to break a promise to you.” Liam means for his words to be playful, but he finds that they cause something in his gut to twist. Dani and Kellen would approve, he thinks. _Establish trust with the target _.__

Niall smiles approvingly at him, which is what finally makes him get up from the table. He can’t refuse that smile. 

“There’s no way that I can show you and Harry up. You two are both ridiculously talented.” Harry simply waves him off, too busy with his beer to speak. 

“Stop stalling. Get up there!” 

Liam grins and shakes a finger at Niall in warning. “Remember, you asked for it.” Tomlinson, who had remained suspiciously quiet during the entire exchange, snorts into his beer. 

“What exactly is Niall asking of you?” he asks. Before Liam can reply, Niall grabs him by the elbow and throws him towards the stage. 

“Come on Parsons! Go get em!” 

And then Liam is making his way to the sound booth at the front of the pub. “Excuse me, mate. You probably don’t get this a lot...but do you have any Michael Buble?” 

Back at the table, the smile drops from Niall’s face as he turns to glare at Louis. “Could you cut it out with the snide comments all the time?” Harry looks over at them and quickly decides to look back down at his beer. Niall and Louis ignore him, as they’ve both learned to leave him out of any sort of confrontation. 

“What on earth could you be talking about, dear?” 

“Cut the shit Lou. I really like Liam. I don’t want to fuck it up, and I certainly don’t want you to fuck it up.” 

“Fuck what up, exactly? He’s straight! He’s never gonna fuck _you _!”__

“Uhhhh….hey.” The sound of Liam’s voice issuing from the stage is enough to distract Niall before he can respond to Louis’s dig. “I’m Liam Parsons. Please go easy on me…Niall made me get up here.” The crowd laughs and, just like that, Liam’s peculiar mix of charm and awkwardness has won them over. Just as it seems to have won Niall over, Louis muses. The song starts up and Harry finally looks up from his beer. 

“Damn….this is an ambitious song.” 

“Now, you say you’re lonely. You cried the whole night through. Well, you can cry…me a river. Cry me a river. I cried a river over you.” Liam’s posture is solemn, and his puppy brown eyes are earnest. He’s caught everyone’s attention with the sound of his full, round voice. The sound of the crowd dies down as the patrons of the pub begin to listen. 

“And now, you say you’re sorry….for being so untrue. Well, you can cry….me a river. Cry me a river. Cuz I cried a river over you.” Niall grins encouragingly and gives two thumbs up to Liam, who seems to relax a bit. He leans into the mic and let his eyes slip partly shut, his head nodding along to the beat. 

“You drove me nearly out of my head…while you never shed a tear babe. Remember…I remember all that you said. You told me love was too plebeian....” 

“What does that mean?” Harry whispers to Louis. Niall slaps the back of his head. 

“Shut up,” he hisses. 

“You told me you were through with me.” Liam pauses and the music builds to a crescendo. He gathers himself, and belts out the chorus just as impressively as Niall had earlier. “And now, you say you love me.” The crowd whoops in approval. “Well, just to prove that you do….why don’t you cry me a river? Cry me a river. Cuz I cried a river over you, over you. You say you love me, but you lie. ” Niall leans forward, hand cupped in his chin. Liam catches his gaze again, and Niall nods at him in reassurance. Liam takes a deep breath and pulls the microphone from the stand, walking closer to the front of the stage as he does so. 

“Now, you say you love me. Well, just to prove that you do. Come on and cry, me a river. Oh, cry me a river. I cried a river over you. I cried…a river…over you. I cried a river. Now you can too. Cry me a river. Cry me,” The crowd erupts into cheers as Liam’s voice rises. “A river.” The cheers turn into a standing ovation as the pub comes to its feet. 

“Well that was dramatic,” Louis remarks, glancing at Niall. However, Niall refuses to rise to the bait and simply stares at Liam as he makes his way down off the stage and back across the pub towards them. Louis shoots a loaded look at Harry, who simply shrugs. 

“That was bloody terrifying. And brilliant! I’m so glad you made me do it!” And Liam is back at their table, pulling Niall into a hug as he babbles at him. “I was so nervous, but it was awesome! So awesome! Aces, mate!” Niall laughs and pats his back, but it’s not Niall’s normal laugh. Usually he laughs without abandon and with his whole body, but this laugh sounds a bit strained. 

“You did a great job, mate. Didn’t see tha’ coming. ‘Not a great singer’ me arse.” There it is again, notes Liam. The thickened accent. _Why _is it there again?__

As usual, Louis butts in. “Can I buy you a drink? That was fantastic!” 

“Still no. Thanks, though.” Louis nods his head in acknowledgement and turns back to Harry, but not before he arches an eyebrow pointedly at Niall. 

The Tommo’s finally gone mad, Niall thinks despairingly. He decides not to worry about Louis, and instead attempts to smile at Liam. It comes out more like a pained grimace. And it is painful to be so close to Liam and still not be allowed to touch him. Especially after hearing him sing like that. Niall will be damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. He clears his throat and finally speaks. “So….yeah…I’m glad you got up there.” 

“Me too. Thanks for making me.” 

“Any time.” Niall stops and clears his throat again. “Hey, look. It’s getting late…I’m gonna make it an early night. But I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?” 

Liam blinks confusedly, caught off guard. He had thought that the evening was going so well, but now Niall is bouncing up on his toes in his eagerness to get out of the pub. What went wrong? Why doesn’t Niall want to hang out with him? “Yeah, okay,” he says uncertainly. “Soon.” 

“Soon.” And then Niall’s gone. 

“Hey, lads.” Liam catches the attention of Harry and Louis, who appear to be muttering into each other’s mouths. “Niall just left…” Harry and Louis whip their heads at that to look around the pub, but fail to spot him. “….so I’m gonna take off as well.” 

“You sure? You could…erm…hang with us? If you wanted…” Harry offers. 

“No, thanks. You two have fun.” 

“Bye, Liam me heart,” Louis says cheekily. “See ya Louis. Harry.” Liam nods at them, and winds through the crowd towards the door as the next singer takes the stage. It’s not until he’s halfway back to his flat that he realizes he’s still wearing Niall’s jumper.

\-------------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad that you didn’t forget to check in tonight.” 

“Come on, Dani. I said that I was sorry. What else do you want?” Liam pulls off his socks and sits on the edge of his bed. The only sound in his empty flat is that of his own voice.

“I want you to take this seriously and to follow protocol.”

“Dani! Of course I’m taking this seriously! I’m sitting alone in a bloody flat in Hackney. I don’t like this any more than you do. In fact, I think that it was your idea to put me all alone in a flat in Hackney.” There’s silence at the end of the other line. Liam pauses, sighs, and folds over at the waist. He puts his free hand over his eyes and braces his forearm on his knees. “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

“I thought we got past this, Li.”

“We did….I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress and it makes me snappy….”

“I know babe.” For the first time in what feels like years to Liam, Dani’s voice softens. “The sooner you get some usable intell on Malik the sooner you can blow your cover.”

Blow his cover. An image of bright blue eyes flashes unbidden across his mind’s eye. He rubs his forehead. “I don’t really want to talk about Malik right now.”

“Well, it’s your job to talk about him.” And, just like that, her voice has hardened again.

“I didn’t learn anything tonight. Well…I did…but nothing that will help you-us. Us. I…uh…I had some suspicions about his relationship with Ni-Horan and tonight confirmed them. They used to be romantically involved, and it seems to have ended badly a while ago.”

Again, there’s silence. After a few moments, Danielle speaks. “Alright. We might be able to use that to our advantage somehow. Are you still on good terms with Horan? More so than the other three?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“I’ll talk to Sergeant Kellen. We’ll let you know how you ought to proceed.” There’s another pause, and Liam lies down on his bed. He folds a hand behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. When he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that he’s back in his flat with Danielle.

Her voice sounds in his ear, softer this time. “I miss you, Liam.”

“I miss you too. You buy that turtle yet?”

“Yeah. The people at the pet shop said that it’s a girl.”

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t named her yet…I wanted to wait for you.”

Liam swallows hard against the tears that suddenly fill up his eyes. “Okay,” he chokes out. “We’ll name her when I…when I come home.”

“You’re _going _to come home, Liam.”__

“I know.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Love you.”

_“Love you, too.”  
 _But that night, Liam dreams of bright blue eyes and fishing instead of turtles and Danielle’s beautiful smile.__

____

\-----------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Liam decides to drop off Niall’s jumper before he’s due at the coffee shop for his shift. The Station seems so less imposing in the morning, its cavernous interior filled with natural light as he pushes past the door. Inside, he finds nothing but Malik stationed behind the bar. The last of London’s nighttime revelers have long since stumbled home, and the dark haired man is currently focused on polishing the smooth, dark wood of the bar.

“Um….hey.” Malik looks up smoothly (does he move like liquid even when startled?) and raises an eyebrow. He lifts one perfect eyebrow, but says nothing in reply. Liam swallows and plows nervously ahead. “I’m….uh….I’m looking for Niall? He lent me his jacket last night and then I forgot about it…so….”

Malik finally takes pity on him (or becomes impatient with his stammering, he can’t tell which) and flicks his eyes briefly towards the ceiling. “He’s upstairs.”

“Okay! Great! Thanks,” Liam says, giddy with nerves. He walks behind the bar, brushes gingerly past Malik, and pushes past a second door. He shuffles up a rickety staircase, pausing as he reaches the top. What is the sound coming from behind the door? Whatever. Again, he opens the door.

Momentarily confused by the scene in front of him, he promptly freezes. There’s a single, narrow bed up against the far wall. Niall’s in it, and he can see the pale white of his ass. But Niall’s hips are moving back and forth in a steady rhythm, and there’s a muscular body underneath his, and Niall’s got someone else’s forearms pinned beneath his hands….

“Shit!” Liam whirls around and grabs for the door, but succeeds only in pulling it straight into his face. “Fuck!” He doubles over in pain, clutching his eye.

“Liam?” He hears Niall’s shocked voice from somewhere behind him.

“Fuck, I am so sorry. Bloody hell. I didn’t see….I’m just gonna-” And then he finally lurches out of Niall’s room without a glance back, slamming the door behind him. He stumbles down the stairs and back through the door. Malik has ceased polishing the bar, and now he’s perched on top of it with a smirk on his face. Liam rears to a stop when he sees him, a hand still over his sore eye as he addresses the man. “Um….I….um…”

Malik says nothing, and continues to look at him with that shit eating grin on his face. He knew, Liam realizes. He knew that Niall had someone in there, and he sent me up anyway. At first he’s confused, and then he’s angry. Only his police training saves him from displaying his emotions on his face. He breathes out slowly, takes his hand down from his eyes, and straightens up.

“Can I leave Niall’s jumper here with you? He’s…uh…busy. So.” Before Malik can answer Liam, the sound of feet pounding heavily down the staircase reaches them. Niall comes bursting through the door (fully clothed, thankfully), a tall man with dark eyes and short hair trailing closely behind him. Liam blushes slightly and drops his eyes to the floor. Shit. He really doesn’t want to deal with this.

“Um…sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on you. I wanted to give you your jumper back-” To Liam’s surprise, Niall wheels to Malik and cuts across his frantic stream of babble.

“Were you down here when Liam came through?” After a beat, Malik crosses his arms and nods stiffly at Niall. “And you just let him behind the bar and sent him up to my room?” Another stiff nod. “What the fuck Zayn?”

“Why the fuck do you care if he sees you giving it up the ass to some random bloke?”

Liam’s blush deepens, and Niall starts to move towards Malik. His fists are clenched and his face is a blotchy red. The other man, who Liam had momentarily forgotten, awkwardly clears his throat and speaks up before Niall can reach Malik. “Is this some kind of three way love spat or.....?” He wilts under the withering glares sent to him by both Malik and Niall. “Ohhhh….kay. I’m just gonna get out of here. Niall, you should-”

“He’s not going to call you,” snaps Malik, his eyes trained back on Niall.

“Right. Got it.” The stranger hesitates, but then pipes up again. “You guys are fucked up.” And with that, he shoves past the three of them and leaves The Station. Why does he look familiar, muses Liam. His question is answered by Malik a moment later.

“That bloke looked awfully like our new friend Liam here. Short hair, brown eyes, tall, muscular….”

“ _Fuck _you, Zayn,” Niall spits out, his eyes filling with angry tears. And then he’s turning around, dashing back up the stairs. Liam glances over at Malik, who looks imperiously down at him from his perch on the bar. It’s painfully clear who’s won this round. Liam feels a bit dazed. He pulls off Niall’s jumper, dumps it in a pile on top of the bar, and then walks wordlessly out of the bar. He can feel Malik’s eyes boring into the back of his head the entire way.__


End file.
